This Secret Dance
by ALottaHeart
Summary: But this secret dance, it goes on. This. This is for them, between them, and they're not ready to share that with the world. Not yet. They've waited too long. Booth/Brennan. Spoilers for 100th episode. Finale has no bearing on this story. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Introduction

**Authors: Space77 & TemperTemper**  
**Pairing:** Booth/Brennan  
**Rating:** M, from the start.  
**Spoilers:** **T****akes into account canon events of the 100th ep** and assumes general knowledge through all US-aired episodes. **Events of the S5 Finale have no bearing on this story**.

**Disclaimer:** This is not-for-profit fanfiction, written purely for entertainment – _Bones_ remains the property of Fox.

**Summary:** But this secret dance, it goes on. This. This is for them, between them, and they're not ready to share that with the world. Not yet. They've waited too long.

**A/N:** This fic is based on the following prompt from a comment fic meme at LiveJournal: _Booth/Brennan; they're together, no one knows, and they try to sneak off on vacation without giving themselves away;_ The story is almost fully published elsewhere, and we plan to post a daily update until completion. If you are active on LJ this may be familiar, forgive us the cross-posting or, you know, accept the excuse for a re-read. Mind the rating from the start. We hope you enjoy ;)

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_**~o~ Chapter One - Introduction ~o~**_

"Mmm… god you are amazing," he says, trailing kisses along her bare arm, up her shoulder, nuzzling into the hair at the back of her neck as he wraps himself around her.

"So you've said several times… and that's just tonight." She smirks, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

He nips playfully at her as he cups her chin and places a quick kiss on her lips. "I don't recall hearing you complain either, babe."

"Well, there was that one thing you did…" She laughs as he begins to tickle along her ribs, "No! Bo-ooth!"

He manages to wrangle her back underneath him, indulging in something he knows he will never tire of - her beautiful smile, twinkling spring-sky eyes, her silky hair so sexily mussed from his (and her) fingers, those lips, still flushed a full pink from… from the best love-making he's _ever_ had. This woman… she does things to him that no other ever has, that no other ever will…

Ever.

"I…" He's not sure why he hesitates. He wants to tell her… everything. He knows how strong she is, how far she's – they've both – come in recent days. But he can't. He doesn't know why, but he can't… not just yet. "I… think we should get away."

"Booth…"

"I know you're going to argue. Please, Bones. Just listen to me, okay?"

"Okay."

"What?"

"Okay."

"What, okay?"

"Booth… I'm listening."

"Oh, um… well, yeah, I think we should go away together. You and me. A beach. Or a cabin. Or something… somewhere… else."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

"That's it?"

"Well, I think I'd enjoy some time away with you."

"I… yes… I think you would, too."

"And…?"

"And… I would _definitely_ enjoy some time away with you… with you underneath me like this, all day every day…"

Before he can finish that thought, she has flipped them until she's straddling him, pressing his arms above his head, her full weight holding him prone beneath her. "That sounds… very monotonous. Variety is the seasoning of life, right?"

"Mmm, close enough," he tells her swaying breasts. Lifting up, he licks a long slow line up the center of her chest, as far as he can reach, then raises his eyes to hers. "So, you'll go? No work, no dead bodies, no danger, no interruptions? Just you and me?"

His eyes are mesmerizing, swirling brown chocolate, growing ever darker as she allows herself to hover over him, their lips barely brushing. There's truly nothing she wouldn't do for this man. Well, anything but make things _too_ easy. "I think I'd have to have my laptop… and my journals… and…"

"No. No no no, Bones. That's not a vacation? That's… that's work."

"But, what if someone needs us?"

"They can wait. Right now, we're the only ones who need us. I need us. You need us. We need this." He captures her mouth with his own, soft pressure quickly deepening as he stretches up to devour her lips, running his tongue along the line of them, tempting her to open to him. And distracting her, just enough that he levers his arms from under her grip and presses up into her, pushing her ahead of him until they are laying side-by-side.

His lips never leave hers, and he holds her so close; he's so warm and she feels the stirrings of him against her. She pulls back, giving him access to her neck, her chest. "Booth…"

"Hmm…?"

"What… what are we going to tell people?" Her fingers trail circles across his scalp, and she holds him to her, loving the sound of his moans and the way he shudders beside her. "We can't… can we just both leave at the same time and not arouse suspicions?"

"Ah, Bones. Just leave that to me."

And she decides that, at this moment, she's willing to leave a lot of things to him. "Yesss…"

_TBC…_


	2. An Honest Ruse

_**~o~ Chapter Two - An Honest Ruse ~o~**_

The next morning she is furiously wishing there was another option. _Leave it to me_, he'd said, like he had a solid plan. She is aware that expecting him to come up with something water-tight immediately following what she was sure was a spontaneous suggestion to go away together, is a little unfair, but this is _his_ area. He is the one striding confidently into this relationship, while she sometimes feels like she is just trying to keep up. And he is very definitely the greater expert in subterfuge.

She frowns as he finishes the last of his cereal, once again running through his suggestion in her head. "I'm not sure about this, Booth."

"What? Why? It's a killer plan."

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly in response to his enthusiastic grin. "I can't act – as you've pointed out before. They'll know I'm lying."

"You'll do fine," he tells her, squeezing her arm and then walking to the sink to dump his bowl.

She scowls and he shrugs. "I'll wash it tonight. Come on, let's go. Work, work, work. _Joy_."

Her stomach twists a little at the thought of being unable to fool their friends. This shift in their relationship – it's so new and so precious. They've waited a long time to get to this point, she realizes, and she knows they both want to keep what they are to each other secret for just a little while, to hold the knowledge close between them. She finds she's fiercely protective of that. And, by extension, she's protective of this chance to get away with him alone; just the two of them. The thought sends a thrill through her. By the time Booth pulls up outside the Jeffersonian, her back is straight and her mind focused.

"I can do this," she half-murmurs, half announces.

Booth smiles, early sunlight painting his eyes a lighter shade of brown. "I know you can, babe," he agrees, leaning as close as he dares and stroking a warm hand over her leg and up, where he knows no-one outside the car can see.

She takes an unsteady breath. "Booth."

"Just think," he cajoles, "you, me, sun, sea, _sand_."

Brennan shakes her head with a wry smile. She's not sure anyone else could imbue talk of finely divided rock and mineral particles with such sexual undertones. Her thoughts are derailed as his strong fingers ride high on her thigh, and she gasps, "Stop!"

She doesn't think being flushed with un-sated arousal is the best start to their plan, and so she glares playfully and slips from the car with a promise to call him mid-morning with an update.

Once inside her beloved lab, she strides confidently to her office, only to find Cam and Angela are already there. Determined not to be thrown, she instead thinks, _Good, I can get this over with._

She arrives in the doorway and fixes them both with a cool look. "Booth and I are going to be attending a partners' retreat arranged by the FBI for all partners to… to do partner… type things."

Cam blinks. "Good morning to you, too."

Angela chuckles. "Jeez, sweetie, you been practicing that little speech the whole way here?"

Brennan swallows. "What? No. Why would I-"

Angela chuckles. "Relax, Bren, I'm just kidding. Cam is looking for the Phillips file. Do you have it?"

"Um, no – Hodgins needed it."

"Great," Cam says with a nod, her heels clicking as she strides past them. "Let me know what time off you'll need, Dr. Brennan," she calls over her shoulder.

Once she is out of ear-shot, Angela grins. "Partner's retreat, huh? Will it be all trust exercises and hiking, or will you get time for somethin' a little _extra-curricular_?" She waggles her eyebrows. "Who gets top bunk?"

Brennan frowns. "I don't-"

"Just remember," Angela warns, as she leaves the office. "I'll want details!"

As her sing-song voice dies away, Brennan looks around her now-empty office and sets her purse on her desk. "Well, that was easier than expected."

_**~o~**_

Perfect. Their plan is killer. It will work, he just knows it. He can already feel the warm sun, surf, sand. Can picture Bones in a skimpy black bikini.

Oh yeah, perfect.

So he's whistling as he enters the Hoover and heads to his office, greeting fellow Agents, secretarial staff, assistants, practically bouncing his way to the break room for coffee and then to his desk, his awesome lumbar support chair – hell, even the piles of paperwork look smaller, neater, actually manageable. _Did someone clean up in here last night?_ He laughs, thinking of a little cleaning fairy, flitting around his office, tidying up after him.

Yep, killer. Perfect.

"Agent Booth, Assistant Director Hacker will see you now."

He thanks her, the full Seeley Booth charm smile in place and working its usual magic judging from the way she follows him with her eyes, actually swiveling in her chair to check out his ass. Yeah, all the glass in this building can really be used to one's advantage.

Pushing open Hacker's door, he takes a deep breath and focuses himself on what he's here to do.

"Agent Booth, you requested to see me?" Hacker leans forward, resting his elbows on his immaculate desk and lacing his fingers together.

"Yes, sir." _His cleaning fairy is way better than mine. One of the perks, I guess._ "Um… I just needed to inform you. See, there's this forensics convention and training thing that the Jeffersonian is requiring some of its employees to attend. And Bones… um, Dr. Brennan, is one of those required to go. And by extension then, sir, it's been requested that I attend as well."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you know… some kind of squint thing… teaching them to squint better or something." Booth affects nonchalance, his hand on his hip and rolling his eyes for good measure. _Damn, I'm good at this_, he smiles inwardly.

"Well, that sounds like an absolute waste of your time, Booth. Not to mention boring as hell."

"Tell me about it. But you know how it is… requirements and all." His hand extends, eyebrow raises. _I totally should've been a professional actor…_

"Here, let me just call Dr. Saroyan and see if I can get you outta-"

"NO!"

Hacker does a pretty mean eyebrow raise himself. A face made for comedy.

"I mean… uh… I already tried that, sir. She's not budging. And you know, Cam and I… well, we go way back, so…"

"Well, hey… your loss then, Agent. Have fun… squinting. Pop quiz when you get back? Bones of the body, maybe?"

"Erm… I think I'll leave that part to Bones." _And you won't be hearing a thing about Bones' body._ "Thank you, sir."

"Oh, and Booth?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Be sure to inform Dr. Sweets of your plans."

_Shit._ "Yes, sir."

During the elevator's descent, Booth doesn't think to greet a single one of his riding companions. Even Collins, who is busy babbling away about the last Capital's game.

Sweets.

He'd completely forgotten about the kid.

There's pretty much no way he can think of to keep this from him. The guy is at the lab all the time. And he and Bones would have to miss their regular session. And… they'd have to tell him.

They'd have to trust him.

Perfect. Just fuckin' perfect.

Walking back into his office, he's already pulling out his cell phone and dialing her number. He flops down in his chair, the phone ringing in his ear, and feels a little twinge in his back at the jarring motion. Leaning forward onto his desk, his elbow slips on a stack of papers near the edge and they slide to the floor.

"Shit!"

"Booth?"

"Hey, babe," he answers as he distractedly gathers the papers, trying to keep them in some semblance of order. _Did someone come in here and make everything messier?_

"I thought we'd discussed… are you okay?" He can hear her hesitation and concern as plain as if she were standing in front of him.

He places the papers back on the desk and leans back into his chair, fighting to find a comfortable position. With a deep exhale, he replies, "No, not really. Have you talked to Cam yet?"

"Yes. Everything's fine."

"Really?"

"Yes. I talked with her and Angela and it was not a problem."

He shakes his head and can't help but smile. His Bones. "Well, good. That's good."

"So how did your talk with Andrew go?"

He tries not to snarl at her usage of his boss' first name. "Well, that was fine. But he reminded me of someone else we're going to need to tell."

"Who else would… _Oh_…" It's like he can just _see_ her face, the moment when the recognition hits. "Sweets."

"Yeah. Do you see how this might be a problem?"

"Booth… how…"

"I think we're going to have to tell him, Bones. I don't see any other way. He's at the lab too much as it is, but didn't you tell me Daisy is scheduled to rotate starting next week?"

"Yes, she will be here to start the new month. And of course that means that Sweets will know everything that happens even without actually being here."

"Exactly." He agrees and moves on to his next concern. "Are you okay with this? With telling him… about us? I…"

"What, Booth?"

"I… I'm just really looking forward to going away. Just being with you, Bones. No interruptions."

"Do you promise to threaten the twelve-year-old within 2.54 centimeters of his life?"

His smile returns full-force at his most adorable squint. "I just happened to re-tighten my shoulder holster. I'm good to go."

He swears he hears her moan before she quickly responds, "I'll be right there."

He laughs into his now disconnected phone. She hung up on him! The little vixen.

_TBC..._


	3. The Secret's in the Telling

**_~o~ Chapter Three - The Secret's in the Telling ~o~_**

A little while later, they are nearing Sweets' office when Bones tugs on his arm. "You do most of the talking," she whispers loudly.

"Why?" he whispers back, as they round the corner and the kid's secretary is in sight.

"_Because_, he's scared of you."

Booth chuckles. "Okay, but you'll back me up, right?"

"Always!" She steps a pace away from him to slug him in the shoulder. "I've got your back – partner." She grins and it's all he can do to keep walking when really he wants to find an unoccupied room around here and…

"Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan – I don't have you listed for today." They are interrupted by the familiar tones of dear, short-sighted Marjorie, who must be due for retirement any day now, and peers at the book in front of her with some alarm.

"Is he in?" Brennan asks bluntly.

Marjorie blinks up at her from behind ornately-framed spectacles. "Why, yes. But-"

"Alone?" she adds.

"Yes, but-" She sighs, used to fighting a losing battle with this pair. "Go on in."

"Good enough for me," Booth decides, striding past Marjorie's desk and heading for the door to Sweets' room.

"Should we knock?" Brennan wonders.

"Element of surprise, Bones. Element of surprise," Booth murmurs, flinging open the door.

"Sweets!"

Lance Sweets leaps a foot in the air in shock and drops his PlayStation controller on the floor.

Booth smirks. "Does your boss know you play video games on company time?"

Sweets blushes and fumbles with the console to switch it off. "Uh… I'm taking an early lunch."

"Uh-huh." Booth crosses his arms and leans one hip against the back of the couch opposite the therapist, consciously adopting the persona he usually reserves for interrogations. "We have something to tell you."

Sweets is instantly alert, straightening in his chair and reaching for the empty pad and pen resting on the low table between them.

"Off the record," Booth warns and the younger man sits back quickly.

Booth glances at his partner a moment and she nods, every ounce of the conviction he needs to see from her shining in her eyes. He reaches out and takes her hand, threading his fingers through hers, and then turns to face Sweets again, one eyebrow raised.

There is a truly comical moment, where the young kid looks from Booth's face, to their hands, to Brennan's face and back around, his mouth dropping further open by the second and then he presses his palms to his cheeks. "No. Way."

Bones leans in close to Booth. "You didn't say anything yet."

"I didn't need to," Booth says. "Did I, Sweets?"

"Wow," Sweets breathes, looking like he can't decide whether to laugh or cry.

Lance watches as Booth tugs Brennan to the couch by her hand until they sit facing him just as they have at every one of their sessions in the past, except now they're sitting that bit closer, and there's the hand holding and the fact that they just… wow!

Booth interrupts his wandering thoughts by leaning close and speaking in a voice that is deadly calm and clearly intended to scare him – it works. "We are trusting you with something that no-one else knows - which means that if anyone finds out about it-"

Lance nods quickly. "Un-understood. But-"

"But what?" Booth grinds out.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me? Why tell me? Not that I'm not awesomely flattered-"

"We wish to take a vacation together," Brennan tells him, speaking directly to him for the first time since they burst into his office and deflating his ego all at once. "We wish to do so without arousing suspicion as to the-" she glances at Booth "-change in our status."

"Tell anyone and die painfully," Booth adds. "Simple as that."

Brennan frowns at him, speaking in the hushed tones they adopt when they – subconsciously or otherwise – wish to shut him out. "You shouldn't make threats you won't carry out, it reduces the effectiveness of-"

"Who says I won't?" Booth argues, patting his gun. "Right, Sweets?" The charming grin the man shoots him belies his words, which Lance takes totally seriously, if not literally.

"You guys don't have to worry, I'll be the soul of discretion," he assures them.

Brennan thinks she is reading honesty on the young man's face. His boyish expression is solemn, his eyes even wider than usual.

Evidently Booth agrees with her as he relaxes his position to lean back beside her on the couch and smiles. "So here's the deal," he tells the young psychologist. "Bones has told the squints the FBI is sending us on a partner's retreat."

Lance nods. He sees where they are going with this. "Okay, I see."

He watches with some interest as Dr. Brennan places a hand on her partner's thigh, "And Booth has told Andrew-"

Booth bristles. _Also interesting._ "Hacker."

"He knows who Andrew is."

Lance raises an eyebrow and nods.

Booth sighs. "I've told _Hacker_ I've gotta go on a forensics convention and training thingy for the Jeffersonian."

Lance nods and sits back, lifting a leg to rest it on his other knee. "So basically you want me to lie."

Booth's mouth is now set in a firm line. "We want you to _confirm_, if _asked_, that we have gone where we said we were going."

"What if I am asked by a person from both of your workplaces at the same time?" He looks between the two of them. Dr. Brennan looks like she is considering the validity of his concern and might be about to agree with him, but Booth shakes his head.

"Like that's gonna happen."

"It's possible," Lance insists. "I can imagine a scenario, at the Diner or-"

"So don't go to the Diner," Booth tells him.

_Just like that?_ Lance feels his own hackles start to rise. "But-"

Booth sits forward suddenly, and the look in his eyes makes the younger man feel extremely uncomfortable. "You. Are. Going. To. Do. This."

Dr. Brennan shifts in her seat, her eyes sliding to her partner a moment in barely-concealed appreciation. Lance blows out an unsteady breath, but sees an opportunity open up all the same. "OK," he agrees. "But you have to do something for me in return."

Booth merely tilts his head in reply, while Dr. Brennan's eyes narrow. To be the focus of their undivided attention is always wickedly intimidating.

He swallows. "Um, I want you both to consider the impact this will have on your working relationship-"

Booth groans. "Gimme a break, Sweets. We've been considering that for the past five years. Why do you think it took us so long to get to this point, huh? Just – make nice and do what we say."

Brennan watches Sweets with suspicion as he considers her partner's words. Words she cannot help but agree with. At length the therapist nods and sighs. "OK."

She startles when her partner stands suddenly, but joins him a moment later.

"Remember," Booth adds, as they head out the door. "We'll know."

Sweets is nodding furiously and a smile is spreading on his face. As Booth opens the door he calls out, "Hey, guys – just let me say-"

"What?" Booth asks, tension evident in his broad shoulders. Brennan thinks he could maybe use a massage, which derails her thought processes for a moment.

"I'm truly happy for you," Sweets tells them. "You have my word."

Brennan knows what his word has been worth in the past, but Booth seems to accept this, he even smiles at the kid. She allows her trust in him to buoy her, puts aside any worry and relishes the unexpected rush of joy that replaces it. They have told someone that they're together and somehow it makes it all the more real. Her lips curve in a smile as her partner ushers her through the door, his hand at her back.

_TBC…_


	4. Feeling a Moment

_**~o~ Chapter Four – Feeling A Moment ~o~**_

Closing the door to Sweets' office, the partners share giddy smiles before composing themselves, Booth's hand guiding Brennan out as professionally as always.

"Have a good day, Marjorie." Booth calls as they pass by the aged secretary's desk.

"The same to you, Agent Booth," she sweetly returns. "And Dr. Brennan." Her smile seems to fade a bit with the last remark, yet Brennan nods and returns the polite expression. Her eyes widen though as she observes Marjorie pull her glasses further down her nose and raise herself higher to look past the edge of her high receptionist-style desk.

"She's… Booth!" Brennan whispers, quickly turning to face her partner.

"I know, Bones. Shhh! Just keep walking," he says, pulling at the set of highly-reflective glass doors in front of them.

Once on the other side, Brennan stops and spins toward him. "She was looking at your ass."

"Bones! Shhh!" He grabs her arm and looks ahead, spotting the door for the stairwell. "C'mon," he directs as he pulls her along.

He allows the door to shut behind them, never releasing the loose grip he has on her. After pausing to listen and then peering up and down the flights of stairs surrounding them, he turns to her and presses her forcefully between him and the nearest wall. His hand is behind her head, his lips crashing on hers, his hard body pinning her deliciously into the cool concrete behind her.

"Mmm," he moans into her mouth before reluctantly leaving her lips and peppering kisses down her jaw to her neck. "You jealous, Bones?"

"Mmm, hardly… oh, Booth… that's nice." She feels like she's melting under the intense heat of his fervent ministrations. He knows exactly how to make her weak in the knees.

He pulls away and frames her face with his hands, his palms against her cheeks, his fingers stroking into her hair. "Tell me you felt that too? That it felt as good to tell someone as it did for me?"

Her smile, wide and beaming, the twinkle in her eyes, her precious laughter, reactions he's seen so many times before when she's really _really_ happy about something - dining and dashing, singing her heart out onstage, opening her eyes to him after completely splitting apart beneath him - these are reactions he would sacrifice almost anything to be honored enough to see for the rest of his life.

"Yes, Booth. It was quite… liberating." She laughs again then pulls on his tie to bring him closer, her lips caressing his, her hand moving to stroke the hairs at the nape of his neck before drifting down his back.

"Yeah it was, baby," he whispers against her mouth. "God, I l…" And he can't hide the way his spine stiffens beneath her hands, the way his breath catches at what he's almost said. _Not here… not now._ He busies his mouth at her neck for a few moments, trying to reign in his wildly rampant emotions, hoping she doesn't realize what almost came to light there.

He pulls back to look at her, his hand brushing her hair behind her ear. "I can't wait to go away with you, Bones. I can practically hear the waves on the shore right now." He gives her a quick kiss, just as he hears the door swinging open from the next floor up and people's voices echoing off the bare walls.

They spring apart, hastily straightening their clothes, checking each other out before nodding their approval.

And everything's professional once more.

They move to take the stairs down to Booth's office and before the people behind them can catch up, Brennan slips her hand in his and whispers, "Me too." Then moving ahead of him a bit, she calls quietly behind her, "But who says we're going to the beach?"

"We'll see, Bones. We'll see. Guess we have some things to discuss later, huh?" And he ushers her the rest of the way down.

Once back in his office, Booth seizes the opportunity to move behind his desk, putting a little distance between them. He's noticed his brain taking longer to switch between personal and professional modes the more they are together like this. He has to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her or potentially touching her 'improperly'. _Man, I really do need this vacation._

She hasn't said a word since the stairwell and he's noticed. "You okay, Bones?"

She moves to the front of his desk and lightly taps the helmet of his bobblehead, sending the Bobby into a good frenzy of erratic movement. "Do you think he'll tell anyone?"

"Not if he knows what's good for him."

She just nods.

He can't help but reach across and lightly touch her wrist. "We'll be fine. Sweets… well, I think we can trust him with this. At least for a while."

"I hope you're right, Booth. I just really… I want us to have a good footing before everyone else finds out."

"Hey. We will… we _do_." He allows his thumb to brush over the soft skin on the inside of her wrist for a moment, before pulling back, restoring that 'safe' distance. "Have dinner with me tonight? We'll go someplace nice. Discuss all the details…"

"I have a lot of work to do if we're going to be gone…" Her brow furrows as she realizes she doesn't know, that she'd just assumed. "When, when are we going? Next week?"

"Details. Dinner. Me and you. Tonight." He reclines back in his chair and puts on his best, most-charming smile. "Please?"

She releases an exasperated sigh, but can't help but reflect his smile back at him. "Fine. But you're taking me someplace nice… and very expensive."

He groans and pops the chair forward, "You've been hanging around with Angela _way_ too much."

He swears there's an extra little sashay in her step as she walks toward the door of his office, calling back, "See ya later, Booth."

He shakes his head and adjusts his pants, mumbling, "Death of me" to the towering piles of paperwork that seem to fucking breed when he's not looking.

A few minutes later, his phone chimes, notifying him of an incoming text message. Smiling, under the assumption it is his partner, he flips open his phone to check it immediately. His expression tempers as he sees the message is from Sweets: _Biggest payout of your gambling career, I presume? Congrats - your secret's safe with me._

Closing his cell, he picks up his office phone and dials a number – calling in a favor for a last minute reservation – all the while thinking of how close they'd come to never making it to this point.

He'd sworn he would never gamble again. And at the time, the bet on 'them' was anything but a sure thing.

And now?

Well, he's been feeling like a million bucks the past few weeks and he knows it was all worth it. Every moment, every time he'd played it safe.

But most of all, the one time he'd laid it all on the line… and then held.

He'd known from the start – he was _that_ guy - and yet she'd shored up her heart. But he'd shown his hand and she came through... for the both of them.

He had to hand it to her, though, she'd had one hell of a poker face.

_TBC…_


	5. We Knew These Steps By Heart

_AN: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/alerted/favourited. Apologies for the lack of review replies, but RL is crazy and we are working on the final chapter. Please know we appreciate each and every one of you. So who is ready to find out how BB got together? It's a long one :)_

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_**~o~ Chapter Five - We Knew These Steps By Heart ~o~**_

There's this restaurant run by a guy he knows. It's out of town, away from everyone and everything that could get in the way of this evening. Somewhere they don't have to worry about hiding the way they look at each other, or fight the urge to touch. Somewhere a squint isn't likely to pop out at any minute and catch them together.

He isn't sure it will meet her demand of 'somewhere expensive' but he is fairly certain she was teasing about that – and he definitely remembers it having class of the romantically-lit-with-a-great-menu variety.

There's half an hour in the car and a short walk across the small parking lot, the dusky sky above like paintbrush rinse-water, hung with clouds of smoke. He reaches for his partner's hand as they walk the slight incline to the dark wood door, smiling when she turns her eyes on him in girlish delight and not being able to resist pressing a soft kiss to the side of her neck as she crosses in front of him to enter the building; pleasure, pride and arousal flooding him when she sighs in response.

They are shown past a small dance floor ringed with tables to a booth near the back, and when Bones slides in beside him, her thigh pressed to his, rather than taking a seat opposite him, it's just another example of the way things have changed between them the last few weeks. Booth couldn't be more thankful, but he has a hard time concentrating on what he wants to eat when she insists on sliding a hand beneath the table and along his leg.

In the end he gets it together enough for them to order and they sip wine as they wait for their food. Bones still has her hand on his thigh and he cocks an eyebrow in amusement, before returning the favor, sliding his palm until he feels the hem of her skirt before dropping his fingers to curl around her leg.

"Booth!" she scolds beneath her breath.

"You started it, Dr. Brennan," he tells her, with a grin.

He should know better than to goad her, he realizes a moment later, as she slides her hand high between his legs until he is jumping from his seat and quickly checking he's drawn no attention with his startled yelp.

His partner chuckles and lifts her hand to the table top and he can't work out whether relief or disappointment wins the battle within him.

"So," she starts, as he tugs to loosen his tie. "Vacation."

"Vacation," he agrees, and gulps at his wine.

"What have you got in mind?" she asks innocently, but dammit if his libido doesn't take her words a whole other way.

He flicks an eyebrow at her and she laughs, low and throaty, the way he likes. The way he's always liked. The way that sets him on fire, when she presses her lips to his ear in bed.

"How am I going to keep you under control when we're all alone?" she wonders aloud and his eyes widen. He's all set to continue their playful banter, but she looks suddenly serious.

He takes her hand. "Bones?"

"What if we find living in close proximity, in solitude, to be difficult?"

"What are you talking about, it'll be great. Hey, we already spend most of our time together, right? I mean I'm practically living at your place…"

Bones' eyes widen but she nods. "I'm not explaining myself very well. I don't want you to get the impression I…" She sits back. "This... us... I mean, it's only be a few weeks..."

"It's been _way_ longer than that and you know it, Bones."

"You _know_ what I mean."

"Yeah. Are you... are you having second thoughts?"

"About us?"

"Well... I meant about the vacation... but..."

"No, Booth. Not... not about either."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "Good. That's good, Bones, because this, what we're doing, it's…" He realizes he is squeezing her hand tightly when she forcefully squeezes back and he laughs, relaxing his fingers to stroke them lightly over her palm. "It's everything," he murmurs, gazing into her eyes like a love-struck fool. _Which is exactly what I am._

She ducks her head and a blush creeps over her cheeks that he finds pretty adorable. "I agree," she tells him and he leans in for a lingering kiss, grazing her bottom lip with his teeth just to hear her moan.

A cleared throat interrupts them and the waiter delivers appetizers and a message that their main course will be delayed, he hopes they don't mind.

When he's moved back to the kitchen, Booth's eyes narrow on the dance floor. There's an old guy playing piano on a little raised platform to the side, some old jazz standard. The memory of the last time they danced together stirs him to offer Bones his hand. "Dance with me?"

They fit together so well. His thoughts remain on the night everything changed between them as she rests her forehead to his throat and melts into him.

~o~

Daisy and Sweets get married in late May. The bride wears white and the groom wears his Starfleet uniform. Or at least he would have, had he got his own way. Word is there was some wrangling, with tears from Daisy and a stern talking to from Angela, who apparently can't help but try and fix everyone around her. In the end it's all much more normal than Booth would have imagined. He's kinda disappointed.

The reception is at the same hotel as the service, and now Sweets twirls his giddy new bride around the same floor she walked across a few hours before, the biggest damn smile on his face Booth has ever seen on anyone. He feels a cynical furrow smoothing out of his brow just watching them, but it sets back in just a second later. How did he get to this point where he is the weary old bachelor, sitting on the sidelines of everyone else's lives?

He looks away and right at Cam, who is finishing a sip of champagne left over from the toasts and smiling as she places her glass on a nearby table, until he catches her eye.

She presses her fingers to the corners of her mouth and tugs downwards. "Why the face?"

He holds her gaze for a moment and then forces a grin, his teeth clenched together. "No face, see?"

"Yeah, that's not fooling anyone - least of all me."

"What do you want me to say, Cam?"

"Oh, I don't know. Whatever will get you out of this funk?"

He cuts a withering look at her but she is unperturbed.

"Talk to me," she offers, pressing a friendly hand to his knee for a second.

"OK." He knocks back the rest of his scotch and sucks in a breath through his teeth. "My twelve-year-old therapist just got married and I'm a lonely old sap. How's that?"

She looks at him a little bit like he's insane and a lot like he's a big cry-baby. "Well you know what you can do about that, don't you?"

"Cam-"

"I'm serious, Seeley. I know you've spent so long carrying this around it's become second nature but it's time to stop. It's time to do something about it."

He looks down at his hands a moment, hanging limp between his knees. "Leave it alone, Cam," he mutters.

She waits a beat, before turning into him a little, lowering her voice. "I'm sorry, champ, but I can't do that. I've been your friend for too long to just sit here and… look, I know you won't admit to being scared so I'm gonna do it for you."

"Cam," he says, firmly and holding her gaze. "Don't." She watches him for long moments, and he finally shuts his eyes and sits back in his chair with a sigh. When he opens them his gaze is drawn immediately to his partner, sitting across the room with Angela, a look of consternation on her face. God only knows what is going on there.

The weight of weeks, of _months_ spent carrying this around inside him is suddenly more than he can bear. He's certain, with some embarrassment, that if he doesn't let it out he'll cry – and all it's taken is a friend asking if he's OK. "There's stuff," he says gruffly. "Stuff you don't know."

Cam shakes her head, her eyes wide. "Stuff?"

"Stuff that's happened." He reaches for his scotch and is disappointed to find it empty. "Ah. I can't talk about this right now. Forget it."

"Seeley, you're worrying me."

He laughs. "Just leave it, please."

"I can't."

"What?"

"I can't. I'm your friend. You see your friend struggling, you help him."

"That simple, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Not here, OK? Now is not the time. We'll talk, but not now. Thank you."

"Yeah, right. So what, I give you time to put your shield back up?"

"Cam-"

She pulls a face. "See-ley."

"Please, just-"

"You love her."

He snaps. He's angry, so angry. Not with Cam, not really, but she'll bear the brunt. "Of course I do, you know I do, but it's not enough!"

He has spoken in a harsh whisper, anger barely restrained, and Cam recoils. She seems to realize this is going to be a whole different kind of talk than she thought. "Oh. My God. You told her."

"I can't have this conversation, Cam. Not now. Not here. Don't make me."

"When was this?"

He slumps back in his chair and he can see it all over her face: her big, strong friend, a broken man. Her concern is clear and, despite his reticence, it touches him.

"A few months ago," he admits.

"A few _months?_ Oh…"

He knows it probably explains a hell of a lot. He watches as moments she has probably struggled to put into context over the last few weeks slot in like missing puzzle pieces.

"That's what this has all been about," she says finally.

He nods, but for appearances sake, "What?"

"The dating."

He cuts her a weary gaze. "I told her I had to move on," he explains. And then he laughs, but he's painfully aware that it's a crazy kind of laugh, born of an emotion the direct opposite of happiness.

She shakes her head. "But what did she say?"

"Basically that she's not good enough for me." He's laughing harder now and she frowns, resting a hand on his arm.

"Seeley."

"Camille," he drawls. "What's the matter, am I making a scene?"

She shakes her head. "I'm so sorry you're hurting," she tells him, and it shuts him down a moment, the laughter ceasing as he crosses his arms at his chest. "But I have to say I'm not shocked by her reaction, especially if – how did you… I mean-"

He sits up. _Women's intuition. Can't beat it._ "Wow. You hit the nail right on the head, you know that?"

She raises an eyebrow but waits for him to continue.

He doesn't see the point in disappointing her now. "I screwed up. I did it all wrong – I said it all wrong. All that time. All the _waiting_ and the _hoping_ and I blew it."

He rakes a hand over his hair and swallows. "I need another drink." He leans into her, hunched over the table and presses a finger to the ivory table-cloth. "D'you know, I blamed Sweets that first week. He pushed me into it, he said I had to take a gamble on us. I'm the gambler."

Cam sits up straight. "I'll kill him. I don't care if it's his wedding day."

But Booth shakes his head sadly. "My fault." He rubs a hand over his face and groans. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking. I've always known you don't push her. _Don't push._"

Cam leans her elbow on the table beside him and tilts her head. "What happened – where did all the talk of gambling come from?"

Booth rests his chin in his hands. "Can we talk about this some other time?" he asks quietly, feeling the fight draining out of him.

"Just spit it out, Seeley. We're halfway there already."

A soft laugh blows out of him before he sits back in his seat, waiting for her to settle beside him. "We went to see him about his stupid book."

"The one about the two of you. What happened to that, anyway? I thought he was just about ready to publish?"

"Yeah see that's the thing. He didn't know about our first case – he had it wrong. And… talking about that brought some stuff up."

He feels Cam's eyes on him for long moments. "Something happened back then, didn't it? Between you and Brennan? At the start?"

He knows he's technically on safe ground – the early relationship he and Cam enjoyed was history by that point and it's not like anything really happened with Bones, but it's where the conversation is heading that he dreads as he nods. "Yeah – not _that_ but – I liked her, right away. And… there was this kiss. One of those kisses-" He sighs. "I don't think you want to hear the rest of this."

"I'm a big girl, Seeley," she assures him. "And… if it helps, as soon as I came here… Well, I always knew you were in love with her."

"Cam-"

"Hey," she says, her hand landing on his arm again. "I love you, big guy. What you and I had was something… but we were never that one _big_ thing. We both know that."

He rests his head in his hand a moment and there's another sigh before he admits, "Bones, she was. _Is_. She is. She's that one. Right from the start."

He doesn't want to meet Cam's eyes, but she just says, "And that's what you told her, isn't it?"

He nods. "Like I said. I screwed up."

"Oh, Seeley."

"She told me I think I'm her protector, but that I'm the one that needs protecting, from her. That she doesn't know how to be this person that can love me forever." He laughs. "Do you know the really fucking crazy thing? It only made me love her more."

Cam nods. "Hell, after hearing that I think _I'm_ in love with her."

Booth looks at her like she's crazy. She must be crazy.

"There really is nothing she wouldn't do for you," Cam explains. "I've seen it before." She looks away, her mind clearly on another time, but he's fixated on now.

"Except love me."

"Oh, she loves you," Cam tells him. "You know she does. She just can't tell you that she'll love you forever. Hell, she can't tell you she'll love you next week with any degree of certainty. Think about it - most people would do it without thinking – even if none of them can truly know how they'll feel down the line – but the thought of doing that terrifies her. She can't work with 'ifs' and 'maybes'."

"But I don't care – I don't care about that. All I need is her, right now."

Cam sits back and grins. "And _that_ is what you should have told her."

He stares at her a moment. He's not an idiot. He's thought the same thing over-and-over, ever since that night.

Cam is nodding, and he's pretty sure there's some more of that sage advice coming his way. "You know what, Sweets was right."

_Or not._ "What now?"

"You were locked in some kind of crazy stalemate. Someone had to do something to snap you out of it, and short of one of us banging your heads together it had to be you. You just… did it in a really, really stupid way."

"Gee thanks." He'll be sure to remember that when he goes for take two. He shakes his head. He'd love to have the courage, but he just can't imagine her reacting any differently than the way she did last time and Cam's right - he'll admit it. He's scared. Beyond scared. He's fucking terrified. He can't see that look on her face again. He can't take it.

"Try again," Cam says, like she can read his thoughts. In a reading-his-thoughts-and-ignoring-them kind of way.

"I can't."

"Man up, Booth," she tells him, a little angry. "So you screwed up. Do it again, but better."

He laughs. He actually laughs. He has no idea where his head is at anymore. But he shakes his head. "It has to be her," he lets out. "I can't."

"Okay, yeah – so you want me to go book this place for 2030? Because that's how long we'll be waiting."

He lifts his head to protest, but she cuts him off with a look and brings out the big guns. "That tumor could have killed you."

He sucks in an involuntary breath and feels his jaw tighten. "Cam-"

"You got a second chance," she presses on. "And I _know_ - I know you're scared. But this is no way to live."

He meets her gaze and in the dark eyes that have held him pinned with many an emotion over the years, there is only concern. He has barely seconds to contemplate the truth of her words before there is someone before them.

He knows it's Bones even before he lets his gaze slide up the clingy dress that has been driving him nuts ever since he picked her up from her apartment. Maybe he smells her perfume, or maybe he just knows where she is at any given moment. Bones-dar. He almost laughs but, after the conversation he just had he feels a little sick and Bones looks a lot serious.

"I'd like to dance," she tells him, all matter-of-fact. Her shoulders are a straight line in the inky blue of her dress, underscoring her words. Pay attention, they say. He snaps up in his seat, ramrod straight, and ignores Cam's chuckle.

"It's called the first dance for a reason, Bones," he jokes, hoping to diffuse whatever it is that has painted a worry-line between her brows. "We can't exactly interrupt."

"I believe it is customary for guests to join the bride and groom on the dance floor after an acceptable period of time," she states.

"She's got you there," Cam agrees, nodding to the floor, where several couples now spin around Mr and Mrs Sweets.

Bones smiles, pleased, and holds out her hand. "Dance with me?"

They fit together too well; his hand at her hip, hers at his shoulder, their others pressed palm to palm. It's like no matter how many times they falter they'll always pick the steps back up; they know them by heart. When he meets her gaze, it's curious and Booth gets that familiar feeling that she is measuring him up for something.

He looks away as Sweets swings by and startles as Daisy bounces free of her husband to wrap her arms around both him and Bones, squealing in his ear, "I'm so glad you guys are here!"

She giggles as Sweets twirls her away and Booth can't help but smile. "You gonna let her get away with that?"

His partner smiles and squeezes his hand. "I can forgive her exuberance. It's been a nice day."

He blinks at her in surprise. "What, no 'marriage is an antiquated ritual' yadda yadda?"

She shrugs. "I have come to accept that an individual's reasons for getting married may include those other than the traditional, practical or financial."

"You're kidding?" He wonders if she'll ever cease to amaze him (freak him out).

"I am not."

To Booth this would once have been life-altering, hell, life-affirming information. Now it kind of makes his head hurt with the effort of putting this bit of his partner together with all the other little bits that seem at odds with each other lately. And it definitely makes his heart hurt. How is he supposed to accept that he can't be with her when she says things like that?

She fixes him with a steady look. "You're surprised."

He swallows. "Yeah. Yeah, Bones – I'm surprised."

She gazes at him with utter focus, like they're the only two people in the world. "You're still hurting."

She winces when his hand involuntarily tightens on hers and he has to make an effort to relax his fingers. "Bones-"

She looks away, somewhere over his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Booth."

"Please," he whispers. "Not here."

"But, I thought this would be an appropriate time?"

He presses his face to hers so he can talk low and only she will hear. "For what? Bringing all that up again? Really? At Sweets' _wedding_?"

She pulls away, frowning. "No, I – I'm not explaining myself very well."

"Care to start?" He knows he sounds cruel. But he can't quite believe they're having this conversation in the middle of the dance floor at their friends' wedding, with everyone they know sitting around with a ringside-view.

Bones swallows and looks down, and his traitorous heart aches for her. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "Do you want to go outside, or-"

"I hurt you," she says. "And I was only trying to do the opposite all along." He opens his mouth to speak, but she pushes on. "We're changing, you and I. Our friendship has become awkward and-"

His heart drops into his stomach. "Bones, please don't tell me we can't work together anymore."

"But that's just it, Booth. I can see a time coming – and soon – where _you_ will tell _me_ we can't work together and I think… I…"

He's the subject of that measuring stare again. He's pretty sure she's working up to something big.

Her hand tightens on his shoulder. "Am I correct in assuming that your efforts to move on have failed?"

"Bones," he growls. "I can't do this." He tries to pull away but she holds him tight.

"You were very honest with me that night, Booth. Please."

He shuts his eyes. Screw it. Cam's right. Time to try again for a different outcome, no matter how insane that makes him. He's going nuts anyway. "I don't want to move on," he admits, voice so quiet she leans in to catch what he says. They are barely dancing now, swaying on the spot.

She pulls back a little. "That's good."

He stares at her, brows drawn into a frown. "What?"

"I didn't like seeing you with someone else, Booth," she admits. "And I don't know what to say – I know it's selfish when I have so little to offer, but Angela says I'm not protecting you. She says I'm hurting you worse than anything else could. And for myself, well I… I've found that being unsure of us, of what we are, has brought me a great deal of pain."

"Bones-"

"Please don't speak, or I won't…" She takes a deep breath. "The fact remains that I cannot tell you that I will love you in thirty, forty, fifty years. I cannot say we will be together then, because I have no idea how to test such a hypothesis." Her eyes widen. "Other than day-by-day."

They're not moving anymore, it's official. This isn't dancing, it's a hug. Booth slides his hands across warm satin to the small of her back and drops his head to her shoulder. "What?" he whispers, barely daring to hope.

"I can only offer you now - now and tomorrow. Day-by-day. Is that enough for you?" She presses her face against his. "Please say it's enough."

He can't speak. When he finally lifts his head they both have tears in their eyes and he is reminded exactly where they are. At that moment, by some merciful act of God, the band finish their song and someone takes over the microphone and calls Sweets and Daisy to cut the cake. The guests leave their chairs and swell around them on the floor and by the time the knife is hitting the bottom of the platter Booth is halfway down the hall beyond the door, tugging his partner behind him.

Outside, there is a lush garden. The place is like a pre-arranged Disney cliché – moonlight, a dusting of stars above, flickering candles lighting twisty little paths that disappear into the inky black of short, clipped hedgerows.

Booth barely notices, but Bones takes it all in beside him and nods. "Appropriately romantic."

He laughs out loud, the first sound he has been able to make since she said… what he can hardly believe she said. He turns to her and crushes her to him, feeling her breath leave her in a rush.

"It's enough, it's enough," he tells her, his face buried in her hair. "I just need you – just you. No promises."

She clings just as tight, her arms wrapped around him beneath his suit jacket, and nods her head. He can feel her tears wetting his shirt, imagines he could even feel her heart beating if he tried, and they stand like that for the longest time, just holding each other.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, eventually. "For what happened before – and I still can't promise that I'm not going to mess this up."

"Hey." He pulls away. "No promises, remember?"

"And it's enough?"

He gazes down at her. "More than."

She smiles, and laughs, just a little. "Good. That's – that's good."

And he laughs too. "God, Bones." He lifts his hand to settle at her neck. "I can't believe this is happening. Are we drunk?"

She ponders his question. "I've had two glasses of champagne. Danish courage."

"Dutch." He grins.

"Dutch," she laughs. Then she gives him a slow smile. "Do you think you're maybe going to kiss me?"

He chuckles, or as close as he can come to it without bursting into tears. "I think maybe I am."

"We're all alone," she murmurs, pressing close to him.

"We're all alone," he agrees, voice soft.

She watches him for a moment. "If I promise to kiss you back will you hurry– mmph…"

He smiles against her mouth and she allows it for approximately three seconds before she pulls away and shakes her head at him. "I was talking."

"Yeah, you were," he laughs.

Then she leans into him and swallows his smile with soft lips and sweet breath, and his fingers clutch at the silk of her dress and she slides her arms around his neck and they're dancing to their own beat, outside in the moonlight, past the little candles and beneath the stars.

~o~

Only three weeks later they are dancing again. "I'll never get tired of this," he murmurs into her hair; her soft sigh her only answer.

Much has changed between them since the wedding – they fall asleep and wake up beside each other, he is amassing a healthy collection of socks in one of her bedroom drawers, and he knows her body as intimately as he knows her mind. But this secret dance, it goes on. _This_. This is for them, between them, and he's not ready to share that with the world. Not yet. He's waited too long.

_TBC…_


	6. A Lover's Embrace

**_~o~ Chapter Six - A Lover's Embrace ~o~_**

A motion out of the corner of his eye catches Booth's attention - their waiter showing him that their food has indeed been served. Kissing the top of her head, he whispers above the flowing music that surrounds them, "Bones. Food's ready."

"Mmm… 'kay," her only forthcoming response, muttered in a low voice against his throat.

"You sleepy, Bones?" he laughs softly against her.

Her hands lightly clench around his lapels, drawing him closer. "Just really, really comfortable," she whispers before kissing his cheek and pulling away, taking his hand and leading him back to their table.

He offers for her to slide in first and she gives him this look. The you-really-are-insane look that she tosses his way from time to time. "If I slide in first, then our food will be in the wrong placement, Booth."

"Well, maybe I wanted to try some of your…" He glances down to see what she's ordered. Lots of green, not at all appealing to his carnivorous senses. "Erm… never mind, Bones," he mumbles, giving in and sliding in first. She follows and primly places her napkin in her lap.

Forking a perfectly cooked slice of beef medallion, he begins this time. "So… vacation," he opens just before taking the first delicious bite.

She spears into her salad, and responds, "Did you have an idea of when you'd like to go?"

"Next week." His response is quick, automatic, and very nearly around a mouthful of food. But the sooner they can be away, and alone, the better, at least in his mind. They conveniently have no open cases right now. He swallows and continues, "Can you be ready to leave by Sunday morning?"

"We don't even know where we're going yet."

"That's not answering my question, Bones," he chuckles.

"I… I have a lot to prepare, but perhaps if I work Saturday as well, I can be ready."

"I just figure that a Sunday through Friday vacation would look more 'professional' - standing up to our cover stories and all."

She smiles. "It all feels so devious."

"Yeah, it kinda does," he smiles back. "But it will be worth it. We need this, babe."

As she sips from her wine, he feels her hand rest again along his thigh, her eyes observing him like he is her meal instead of… well, instead of whatever-that-is she ordered.

"Um… your food okay, Bones?" he squeaks as her hand moves slightly higher.

"It's wonderful," she replies, her face belying to no one else what her deft fingers and oh-so-talented hands are telling him beneath the tablecloth. "I've just suddenly had a craving for dessert."

Swallowing his last bite with much difficulty, he clears his throat and wipes his mouth with his cloth napkin. "Should I… ask for the dessert menu?"

"Oh, I know this menu by heart already." She leans close to him, kissing just below his ear and whispering in _that_ way she does that gets him every time. "Take me home now, Booth."

"God, Bones." He waves wildly to their waiter, "Check, please!"

~o~

"C'mon, Bones. The sound of waves crashing outside our bedroom window, walking on the beach hand-in-hand, you wearing the skimpiest black bikini known to man…"

"You're seeing me completely naked right now, Booth."

"Mmm, yeah… and loving it." He kisses her shoulder then lifts his eyes to hers. He could feel her watching him. "What?"

She just shakes her head and pulls his face to her, her lips and tongue claiming his for several long moments. Then she tilts her head back so he can kiss along her neck.

"I… think you'll… love the beach, Bones."

"I've been to the beach before."

"Not with me."

"Actually, I've been to the beach with you on several-"

"Not with me not working, just relaxing. Where my only focus is making sure you have enough sunscreen. And enough fruity umbrella drinks. And are truly… completely… utterly… Seeley-satisfied."

Her laughter rings out through the bedroom.

"What? Why are you laughing?" He fakes incredulity and begins to tickle her where she rests under him. Her reaction is nearly violent, bucking beneath him and squealing with a child-like delight he's heard only too rarely over the past six years.

He sits up, pulling her with him and kissing her soundly. She raises onto her knees and, tilting his face so as to never break their kiss, positions herself to straddle his lap.

Their arrival home from the restaurant was punctuated by quick and intense _needyourightnow_ sex against her front door. Still half-dressed, completely out of their minds, immensely satisfying.

Their position now is much more relaxed, sensual, intimate; they are locked in a lover's embrace that renders them able to take full advantage of everything the other has to offer.

Her hands trail up and down his arms, across his shoulders, before making trails and circles and random patterns across his broad back and chiseled chest. His rest at her waist, thumbs lightly rubbing her soft-as-silk skin as his lips and breath skim along the line of her jaw.

"Why not the mountains, a nice cabin in the middle of nature, hiking, majestic views?" She lingers along his biceps, her index fingers tracing the curve and dip as she kisses his neck, waiting for his response.

"Cold. Too many clothes." His hands smooth up her sides, cupping her breasts, his thumbs teasing circles.

"Wrapped together in blankets in front of a roaring fire, steaming mugs of coffee or hot cocoa, and depending on where we go, there may still be snow." Her fingers trail lower and lower down his stomach, settling, stroking, caressing him back to life.

He leans forward, pulling her chest flush against him and nuzzling along her collarbone, inhaling their mingled scents, tasting her sweet skin at the curve of her neck. "Power outages, avalanches, hypothermia," he releases against her ear.

"Hurricanes, undertow, shark attacks." Stroking. Her thumb. His…

"What are we doing, Bones?" he gasps.

"I thought we were discussing where to go on our vacation." She raises up on her knees, positions him and oh-so-slowly returns to him, her eyes on his, senses in-tune to him, connecting now on every level.

Grasping her hips, he pulls her to him more snugly, grunting and whispering, "Baby, as long as we're together. Like this. I don't care where we go." He kisses her tenderly. "You understand that, right?"

She slowly rotates her hips, raising only slightly on her knees, the slow, sweet friction, so deep, so good. "Yes, Booth. Yes…" she pants.

"Me. With you. You. With me. So good. So good."

"Booth. So good. So…"

"Bones. Bones."

"Booth. Oh…"

~o~

"So where did Sweets and Daisy go for their honeymoon?"

His fingers, caressing lightly up and down her upper arm, still for a moment at her seemingly out-of-the-blue question. "Um… Caribbean somewhere, I think."

"So the beach, then."

"Yeah… why?"

"Let's go to the beach, Booth." Her voice is resolute, her mind made up in that instant.

"I _so_ don't understand you sometimes, Bones." He kisses into the softness of her hair and chuckles to himself at just what sort of rational and empirical thought process must have led her to that conclusion.

"Well, I don't understand why you want every other man on the beach to see me in a skimpy bikini either. But you want to go to the beach, so let's go to the beach."

Or maybe not rational and empirical at all. "Maybe we _should_ go to the mountains…"

"Bo-ooth!" She smacks his chest.

"I'm kidding! Ow! I'm kidding, Bones… Hey, let them all stare. I know who you're going to be with at the end of the day."

"And-" she smiles sweetly up at him, her eyes twinkling in the low light "-at the beginning of the day."

A warmth he once thought he'd never be lucky enough to feel, and yet has been basking in for the past three weeks, rises again and settles around his heart. "Yup, then too, Bones. Then too."

_TBC…_


	7. This is My Truth, Now Tell Me Yours

_**~o~ Chapter Seven - This is My Truth, Now Tell Me Yours ~o~**_

Brennan spent the rest of the week working as much as possible in order to clear her schedule for the week they would spend away. By Friday she had tied up the loose ends of three closed cases by signing off on paperwork, worked on several bodies from Limbo and supervised her intern – and this particular week she was blessed by the presence and _unique charm_ of Mrs Daisy Sweets, nee Wick. On top of all this, she contributed to a paper a colleague from Northwestern was writing and briefly assisted Cam with a case she was working for DC Metro PD. A productive week by anyone's standards, but still she berates herself in quiet moments when she finds her thoughts straying uncontrollably to her partner.

_It's his fault,_ she reasons with herself on her drive home, _for putting the idea in my head_. He may be looking forward to seeing her in 'the skimpiest bikini known to man' but she can't deny that she is now equally excited by the prospect of seeing him in nothing but swim trunks, laying on the beach – or emerging from the surf, his skin glistening, tanned…

Once they had decided on a beach holiday, Booth had wasted no time in running to fetch her laptop, moving through her apartment naked and unabashed before crawling back beneath the covers beside her and propping the machine on his knees.

There had been some healthy debate regarding the cost of a spontaneous vacation versus the limits of Booth's salary – Booth, of course, had wanted to split the cost down the middle which she understood as his need to assert his rights as a man, and a gentleman at that, not to be kept. However, the cost of the hotel and flights was a drop in the sea for her, and she'd told him so.

She smiles as she remembers how she won the argument. She's found he is easily persuaded to her point of view during sex, so that was the deal clincher. Plus she'd promised to let him pay for anything they needed while they were away.

They have booked a modest room (his choice) in an excellent hotel (hers) that is made up of individual dwellings strung along a private beach. If the pictures on the website were anything to go by Brennan feels sure they will enjoy their stay, and now that her working week is over she can allow her thoughts to focus on only that. On sun, sand, sea and Seeley Booth. She rolls her eyes at herself, as she unlocks her apartment. Apparently he's rubbing off on her.

She puts her jacket and purse away and sorts her mail before a package on her kitchen table catches her eye. Curious, she pulls colored tissue paper from the top of the gift bag, finding a bottle of suntan lotion inside. Smiling, she lifts it and pops the cap, inhaling the fresh scent of summer. There is a small card inside the bag, Booth's familiar scrawl upon it: 'You rub my back, I'll rub yours, partner. See you Sunday – can't wait!'

She can't fight a grin, stroking a thumb over his words a moment. He is staying at his place the next two nights to see Parker before they leave. She is a little dismayed to find that she misses him already.

"Time to pack," she says aloud, hoping to distract herself, but slips the card into the back pocket of her jeans, feeling foolish.

~o~

She isn't sure it will all fit in her suitcase.

She is used to traveling light. Hiking boots, a jacket, a couple of changes of clothes and her field kit are all she usually needs. Now her bed looks like she's decided to have a yard sale. She hadn't been sure what to buy for the trip and had so little time that she had panic bought nearly every summer item in a small boutique Angela once showed her across town. Getting away from work at lunchtime to complete this mission without the artist accompanying her had been a feat in itself but, for a moment, she wishes her friend to be in on the secret, so that she could ask her advice. Does she need three pairs of sandals? Is this bikini skimpier, even, than Booth has in mind? How many sarongs are too many sarongs?

She stands and stares at the neat piles of brightly colored linen and cotton and frowns. Of course, if Angela were in on the secret, then the secret would be as good as gone. She loves her dearly, but she has the feeling that if she looked up the word 'gossip' in the dictionary, she'd find a photograph of her friend in lieu of a definition. She feels a little guilty for the thought as soon as she has it. Angela has been a good friend to her, especially lately, and she knows she would be very glad to hear the news that she and Booth have entered a relationship. But still, not yet.

She is startled from her reverie by a sharp knock at the door and her stomach gives a small flip as she assumes (hopes?) it is Booth. _Could he not keep away?_

She is secretly relieved that he is as hopeless at the whole 'being apart' thing as she is. But halfway through her apartment she remembers that he has a key.

It is enough to make her check the peep hole as she reaches the door, her eyes widening as she does. It's Angela. Of all the times for her to conjure her up with a wish, she thinks fancifully, as she races back to her bedroom and scoops all the summer clothes up in her top sheet, stuffing them beneath the bed in a messy pile. She kicks at a pair of sandals to make them fit and drags the soft blue comforter down to trail on the floor. She steps back to check everything is hidden and turns at her friend's second knock on the door. Her open suitcase mocks her from its position on the floor, however, and she wrenches open her closet, flinging sensible button down blouses and dress pants at the bed, wondering what on earth has come over her. Angela has grown insistent now and she finally moves through the apartment to let her in.

"There you are!" her friend exclaims, breezing past her.

"Yes," Brennan agrees.

"Where were you? I've been knocking forever."

She ignores her friend's tendency to hyperbole and leads the way back through to her bedroom. "I was packing."

"Something good I hope, not all… oh." Angela regards the pile of clothes on her bed and props a hand on her hip. "Boring work shirts," she finishes, lifting a blouse between two fingers like she's found it at a crime scene.

"Work is why we're going," Brennan informs her, continuing her ridiculous charade by trying to decide between pumps and boots, holding both pairs up. "Which do you think?"

"Neither," Angela decides, with a grimace. "Come on, sweetie. A week. Alone. With Booth. Please tell me you are planning on taking something a little more…" She shakes her shoulders and snaps her fingers. "Snazzy."

"Snazzy? Angela, we will be-"

"Yes, yes. Doing deadly boring work things all day, but the nights, sweetie, think about the nights! This is the perfect chance for you to put everything we've been talking about into action." Angela watches her for a moment, her dark eyes turning sad. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

_This is ridiculous_. "About what?"

"About Booth."

Brennan looks away, clearing her throat. "No."

"So you're still going to tell him how you feel?"

She finds herself seriously contemplating this, as though it has any relevance given the fact that Booth is well aware how she feels. She is not sure how she would have answered before, so she tries to appeal to Angela in her own language. "I _could_ take a dress."

Angela claps her hands. "Two! Maybe three! I'll choose." She dives into Brennan's closet without further ado.

Brennan laughs softly at her friend's antics. "I'll go make us some coffee," she offers.

"Screw the coffee, open a bottle of wine!" Angela calls after her.

~o~

A bottle of wine was a _bad_ idea, Brennan has decided, some time later. She has a suitcase packed full of unsuitable clothing, which will need re-packing once Angela leaves, the prospect of a hangover to face in the morning and is steadily losing her grip on why, exactly, it is so important that her friend not know their secret.

Angela has been bombarding her with many versions of her favored topic of conversation – namely certain revelations that Brennan has recently shared with her regarding her feelings for her partner. Brennan has become adept at ignoring, or else side-stepping, her friend's well-meant attempts at matchmaking over the years. But now Angela believes she is planning to approach Booth while all the time she already has, and she's _with him_ and the urge to say to hell with it and tell her the truth is almost unbearable by the time Angela is pouring their last glasses from the bottle.

"Ooh! There'll be dancing!" the artist croons, as she leans her head back on the couch, a dreamy look on her face. "Don't you think? Some kind of wrap party."

"I highly doubt it," Brennan counters. "From what I understand these gatherings are strictly professional in nature. Besides, it is more usual for both members of a partnership to be male, so I am not sure who they would dance with." Again, she has no idea why she is participating in this ridiculous conversation when she and Booth are going nowhere near a partner's retreat. She closes her eyes and takes a steady breath in, and she is _so close_ to admitting the truth.

And then she isn't. Because Angela says: "You've thought about it though, right? Dancing with Booth? I saw you at the wedding."

Brennan sits up straight, her stomach lurching. She sets her wine glass on the table in front of them to buy precious seconds to compose herself. She is no good at this, none at all. This is why Booth's silly plan was never going to work.

"Saw us?" she asks, trying to effect nonchalance.

Angela nods, her eyes twinkling. "Dancing."

_Oh. Thank god_. "Oh, yes," she breathes. "We did – briefly."

Angela narrows her eyes and Brennan feels a sharp prick of fear, as though she is a fox, and Angela – Angela is the hounds of love. Brennan glares at the bottle of wine on the table a moment, sure it is responsible for her poeticism.

"That was right before the two of you took off," Angela says.

"Was it? I – guess it was. I had a headache."

"And Booth took you home?"

"Yes."

"Without breathing a word to anyone?"

"What do you mean?"

"No one knew what happened to the two of you. Sweets was looking for Booth during the toasts."

Brennan shifts on the couch, avoiding Angela's knowing gaze. "I didn't really realize," she tries, thinking of the warm pool of sunlight she lay in that next morning, as she listened to Booth calling Parker in the next room. Remembering how she stretched limbs heavy with pleasure and too-little sleep as his voice carried through with the song on the radio, with the burble of his coffee machine and the waking-city sounds drifting through the open window. Remembering her stomach fizzing with a pleasant, physiological response she could only label as emotionally-induced, as Booth apologized for missing his baseball game, telling him he had the best kind of excuse. That one day he'd be old enough to hear all about it.

Angela raises an eyebrow. "It must have been some headache."

Brennan blinks, wrenching her thoughts to the present. "It was." She nods and stands. "And I think I'm working on another one." She tugs Angela to her feet.

"Ooh!" Angela giggles. "Am I being dismissed?"

"Yes," Brennan replies bluntly. "I have to get some sleep."

At the door she asks, "You're not driving are you?"

"No I caught a cab. I'll get that cute doorman of yours to call me another."

"Good."

Angela squeezes her hand as she prepares to leave. "Just promise me, Bren, that amid all the deadly boring lectures and assault courses you'll make time for some fun."

"I promise," she assures her, trying to imagine for a moment what kind of assault course one might find on a long, white-sand beach. She pictures Booth gamely leaping logs and scrambling beneath netting, all while bringing her cocktails on a little tray. She smirks, and Angela seems to take this as proof of her words.

"Good," she tells her, sweeping her into a fragrant hug. "I just know it is going to work out for you guys. He's just waiting for a sign from you, Bren - I know it. Call me when you…" And there her words trail off as her arms tighten about Brennan's shoulders.

"What?" Brennan asks, pulling away.

Angela is moving back into the apartment, her interest caught by something on the table.

_Oh no!_ Brennan rushes after her but her friend has lifted the incriminating evidence and is fixing her with a skeptical look.

"Suntan lotion? I thought you were going to West Virginia?"

Brennan shrugs. "It's been sunny."

Angela lifts the gift bag in her other hand, noting with delight the blush now painting her friend's cheeks. "Gift-wrapped?"

Brennan stutters. "Uh-"

Angela stares. "You're not going on a partner's retreat at all!" she realizes.

"Angela." Brennan holds her hand out and her friend slaps the lotion bottle into it, watching her as she replaces it in the bag and puts the whole thing to the side on the kitchen counter.

"Where are you going?" Angela asks. Her face falls momentarily. "And with _whom?_"

Brennan feels her face flush, mainly with panic that Angela should misunderstand the situation and think there is another man involved. Somehow even the thought feels like cheating on her partner.

But a moment later it doesn't matter because Angela has apparently spotted the color on her face and her eyes light up. "Oh – oh!"

"Angela."

"Oh no, that's too delicious."

"Angela."

_"Bren-nan."_

"Please promise not to scream."

"Brennan!"

"Booth and I are in a newly-established romantic relationship and we are – _Angela-aaa._ You promised not to scream."

~o~

"We were _attempting_ to keep it a secret, just for a little while."

"Oh, sweetie, I will be the soul of discretion."

"That's what Sweets said."

"You told Sweets?"

"We knew he would find out."

"Daisy."

"Yes."

"I'm so sorry I ruined your secret."

"No you're not."

"No I'm not! Oh my God, sweetie – this is huge!"

"Angela-"

"OK, OK, I'm sorry – I just…"

"What?"

"You know I have to ask?"

Brennan sighs wistfully. "Yes, it's fantastic."

"Not the _sex_, though wow, who didn't know that would be the case, right?" She grins. "But I'm talking about how you _feel_, Brennan. Are you happy?"

"It's early yet, Angela. We only just got together at the wedding."

"I knew it!"

Brennan chuckles. "It's early. But yes, I'm happy."

Angela crushes her in another hug. "I'm happy _for_ you. Both of you."

"Thank you," Brennan murmurs, into her friend's hair. "Now please, can I have some help re-packing my suitcase? I need you to tell me what to take."

Angela pulls away and smirks. "Practically nothing, sweetie. Practically nothing."

"I don't understand."

"As in the less fabric, the better."

"Ah. Yes, I believe Booth would concur."

~o~

Sometime later, after being forced to agree to lunch and "girl time" the next day, Brennan closes her front door and makes her way back to her bedroom to close her suitcase, trying to work out how she is going to tell Booth their secret is out before they've even left. After interrogating her for over an hour, Angela has promised to keep quiet, but her previous observance of her friend's inability to avoid the urge to gossip still stands.

Despite this minor setback, Brennan acknowledges that, maybe even moreso than with Sweets, it was quite thrilling to tell Angela the truth. Their plan may be becoming more complicated by the day and maybe she ought to be getting cold feet by now (Brennan 101), but she's not.

_It's worth it_, she whispers aloud, making no attempt to fight her smile.

_TBC…_


	8. Counting Backward While Stars Are Fallin

**__****~o~****Counting Backwards While the Stars Are Falling ****__****~o~**

"Dad!"

"Yeah, Park?"

"Where're you?"

"In the bedroom, bud. I told you I'd be back here packing." Booth can't help but roll his eyes and grin at the typical lack-of-attention response from his eight-year-old ("_Eight-and-a half, Dad!"_) son.

"Oh yeah." Parker enters the room, tossing his baseball in the air and catching it in his glove _most_ of the time. "You wanna go play ball, Dad?"

"Sure thing. But let me finish a little of this packing first, okay?" He ruffles his son's floppy hair as he passes by him to his dresser. "We got distracted by Lego Star Wars for a while there and I need to get a bit more of this done."

"Okay, I'm going to go watch TV."

As his son trundles off down the hallway, Booth thanks his lucky stars, his God - anyone who will listen - for his understanding, fun-loving, inquisitive and overall resilient kid. Nine years ago he'd never predicted himself to be in quite this situation, but he literally wouldn't change a thing. Every point up to now has made him who he is, made his son who _he_ is - and brought him to this point with his partner, the seemingly least likely person to be the fulfillment of his every dream. But no-one else can even hold a candle. And the fact their flame was very nearly snuffed out just makes it all the more precious.

_Fate._

He laughs under his breath, thinking of Bones' response to that, and allows his mind to drift as he gathers boxers, t-shirts and a couple pairs of brightly colored socks from his drawers and carries them to the suitcase open on the bed. Recalling the previous few days, everything seems such a blur since their lovely night of dinner and dancing and then ending up back at her place for the pure heaven that followed (as per routine, at least the past three weeks). But since then, they'd only spoken on the phone a few times during the days, both busy (and deliberately devoted to) making sure things were left as prepped, completed and organized as possible before their absence.

They'd only shared one meal together - a late night dinner at the diner before he'd driven her back to the Jeffersonian to get her car, making her promise to go home and sleep. A short kiss and a hug and they went their separate ways (anything but routine, and more difficult than he would have ever imagined).

He misses her.

Although his precocious son manages to keep him busy and his mind occupied most of the time, this new realm of his ever-complicated, ever-growing relationship with Bones remains an ever-present and pleasurable pre-occupation. He wouldn't trade his time with Parker for the world - that's why he insisted to Rebecca that he keep at least Friday and Saturday of his weekend with his mop-topped munchkin - but he has to admit to his mind wandering more often than usual.

After a couple hours of catch and visiting the playground at the nearby park (where he refrained from the slide - no back injuries right before vacation, thankyouverymuch), Booth sits across a diner-table from his not-so-little-anymore boy.

After chewing his last bite of cheeseburger and draining his large glass of Coke, Parker clasps his hands in his lap and queries his father, oh-so-businesslike – well other than his legs swinging back-and-forth underneath his chair. "Dad, where're you going again?"

He really does hate lying to his son, despite what he'd told Bones in the past. Yeah, some things, like Santa and 'Africa' are just _necessary_ for any child's proper development and well-being, but _this_… he just wishes he could go ahead and share this amazing part of his life with his kid.

This boy and this woman are the two most important people in his world - the two most precious 'things' he has going for him right now, the two individuals, bar none, that he would give his life for in a heartbeat - it'd be his last heartbeat and he'd be okay with that. To him, that's love, and it comes with the territory.

(Never mind the fact that he hasn't told the love of his life this, in so many – okay, three - words.)

But lying to his boy about this… well, it's necessary because Park can't keep a secret worth a damn - like the time he let him have a small sip from his beer bottle, and of course Parker hated it, but boy did he hear about it from Rebecca when the boy let it slip that "Beer is so gross, Mom!" - and if Rebecca found out about this? Well, put it this way - as much as he loves her, because no matter what, she _is_ the mother of his son, there's no way in hell he wants her to be the first (well, second now… damn Sweets) to find out about the extent of his and Bones' relationship. No way, no how.

So…

"Bones and I have to go away this next week…" and here comes the hard part, "…for work." He bites his lip, hard, and waits for the inevitable twenty questions.

"Oh. Okay." Head bobbing, legs swinging, Parker begins to nibble on his last few fries. "Can we get pie?"

Booth takes a deep breath - overly-concerned-parent, completely-oblivious-child moment? Check.

"Sure thing, bub. Wouldn't be a proper diner experience without pie, right?"

Parker grins, then his face falls just a bit. "I like when Bones eats with us. Even though she _never_ eats pie." His expression morphs into a mask of utter childish disbelief - who in their right mind would never eat pie? Especially all warm and ooey-gooey with vanilla ice cream on top? Booth can just hear the '_Girls are weird_' sentiment now. And, in this case, seconds it.

"Me too, Parks, me too. Maybe next time she can come eat with us, okay? She had some things she needed to do tonight."

Rebecca shows up a few minutes after they've demolished every last smidge of cherry and morsel of crust on their plates, leaving that little ring of melted ice cream that just won't lend itself to being scooped. If they were at home, Booth knows his son would be licking his plate clean.

"Seeley…"

"Hey, Becs." He stands and leans in to kiss his ex's cheek as she crosses to sit by their son. "Thanks for letting me and Parker keep most of our weekend."

"It's fine. We're planning on going to the hot air balloon festival tomorrow anyway - Parker loved it last year."

"That sounds great, huh Big Guy?"

"Yeah! Too bad you and Bones gotta go out of town, Dad - you could see them, too!"

Rebecca's brow lifts a metaphorical mile. "Oh, you didn't say Dr. Brennan would be going, too."

Trying desperately not to squirm in his chair, he responds, "Well yeah, I told you it was work-related. Most of my work relates to Bones - and bones. Both…" He can't stop his hand before he's rubbing his forehead, unconsciously trying to smooth out his creased brow, "…those things. Well, both the person and the things." _God, Seel, shut up!_

Rebecca just smiles and nods. "Oo-kay. So, Parker, you ready to go? We may have just enough time to get home and watch a movie before bed."

"Popcorn?" The boy's face lights up like Christmas and Booth can't help his own broad smile that follows on the heels of his relieved-to-be-out-of-the-spotlight exhale.

"We'll see…" she tells her son. Then to his father, "Have a good trip, Seeley. Be safe…"

"Thanks, Bec." He throws money on the table to cover their meal and escorts them out, holding Parker's hand and giving him a big bear hug before sending them on their way. "Love you, Parks!" He calls as the boy walks away with his mother.

"Love you too, Dad!" The words are the best music to his ears.

Ducking his head and digging his hands deep in his pockets, he walks down the block to his car, wondering at how much lighter his step feels after giving and receiving those simple words with his son.

And then those thoughts become this: just how much _more_ will it be when he finally says them to her? And he can't help but hope beyond hope that Temperance Brennan will say them in return…

~o~

Once home, he grabs a bottle of water and goes back to his bedroom to finish packing a few more things. Moving around the bathroom gathering various toiletries, he realizes his electric razor is still at Bones' place. He'd been meaning to ask her to bring it to him, but had stuck with wet shaving for the past few days. On vacation, however, he figures he'll most likely want the electric. He'll have to remember to get it in the morning.

He looks at his watch - it's not _that_ late yet. He could call her, ask her to pack it into her things. Or better yet…

He runs through his mental checklist of what he has left to do before leaving his apartment for a week.

Yeah, _oh yeah_ - an even better solution presents itself and he smiles, picking up the pace, knowing the payoff will be super sweet.

~o~

He decides against knocking and just uses his key, assuming (hoping?) she is already in bed.

Her suitcase is sitting near the front door and he places his beside hers, so they'll be ready to catch the cab to the airport in the morning… well later _this_ morning. It took him a bit longer than he'd expected to get everything together - he'd finished packing, showered away the day, plus made a quick stop at a 24-hour drug store for some last-minute necessities.

He drops his keys and phone next to hers on the side table, toes out of his shoes and strips off his socks, padding barefoot down her hallway towards the bedroom. Stopping to lean on her door frame, he allows his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. Her outline on the bed is evident. She's on her side… and on _her_ side. He can't help but smile at how little time it took to fall into those roles. His and hers.

_How little time?_ His smile fades and he takes a deep breath, pushing off the threshold and entering her room. Try six years… but who's counting.

Especially when the last three days away from her may as well have been forever.

He steps closer, his toes clenching into the thick plush carpeting of her bedroom. One of her bare feet is hanging over the side of the bed, the dim light from her bathroom illuminating glossy (pink? light red?) toenails peeking from under the sheet. He lets one finger drift across a smooth crescent and smiles when her foot twitches slightly.

She does not wake and he can't wait any longer. Stripping down to just his boxers, he rounds the bed and crawls in behind her, pulling her flush against him and settling the covers over top of them both.

"Mmm... Booth?"

"You were expecting someone else?"

"I wasn't even expecting you." He hears her smile as she turns in his arms to face him, her cheek snuggling into his chest, her whole body tucking close into his embrace. "You're warm."

He reaches down to lift her chin, bringing her face, her lips to his own.

A single taste. He needs...

Oh, three days without and he's like a man in the desert suddenly given unlimited cool, fresh drinking water. He falls into her, re-familiarizing himself with every contour, every curve, every dip and valley that is so deeply ingrained in him he'd never forget it anyway.

But when it's someone you love, it's never a chore to return. To retrace. To relearn.

To come home.

"I missed you, baby." He pushes her hair out of her face, looking for her soothing ocean eyes. "What'd you do today?" The perfect line from her chin to her ear calls to him. He gives in and nuzzles all the way to the light beauty mark he knows is about two-thirds of the way down her neck.

"Worked a bit in the morning... Ohh... um, met Angela for lunch..."

"Got your nails done." He lifts her hand, running her smooth nails across the stubble on his cheek and bringing them to his lips, kissing each tip before laving her thumb with his tongue.

"Booth... Ange knows." Her voice sounds appropriately breathless, but small.

"Mmm yeah, she probably got hers done, too. Right?" He kisses along her wrist, forearm, raising above her to feast on the delicious curve of her elbow, pressing her soft body underneath him.

"She knows... about us."

"What? Bones?" He still has hold of her wrist, all action ceasing as his eyes search hers, needing explanation.

"I... I'm sorry – she found your fairly obvious gift Friday night. And I couldn't lie to her, Booth. I tried... it wasn't pretty."

He sighs, knowing it was bound to happen. He'd hoped they'd have at least made it to the airport first. "Is she... what'd she say?"

"She was... vocal in her support."

"And then swore on her firstborn to keep her mouth shut?"

"Angela's not pregnant, Booth. But yes... she's going to keep our secret. For now. I hope."

He drops his head to her chest, just resting upon her softness, hearing her steady breaths, enjoying her fingers automatically stroking his hair.

"Are you... mad? At me? Cause I failed to-"

"No..." She sounded so small, so disappointed in herself and he could never stand for that. "No, Bones. It's okay. We're leaving in the morning. Nothing can put a damper on this."

She kisses his hair and he presses a kiss to her t-shirt covered breast.

"I could've told Parker."

"You still can..."

"I'll call him. Let him know we made it okay." He lifts up on his arms to hover above her. "But I think this is something we should tell him together. In person."

She nods. "If you're sure."

"Of course I'm sure, Bones. He'll be great. You'll be great. My kid loves you." _I love you._

Their eyes hold for a long moment... he has the feeling he's being thoroughly searched. It's not unpleasurable. He's finding her intensity and single-minded focus – usually only observed with a pile of bones in front of them – to be almost refreshing. Put it this way, better him than... someone else.

Keeping his eyes open, he leans in and kisses her softly. "Are you tired?"

"A little." She glances to the bedside clock. "And we have to be up in about three hours."

He rolls to his side and pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her from behind and nuzzling into her hair. "Sleep then, babe. I don't want anything keeping us from making that plane."

She squirms a little, finding a comfortable position, her bottom nestling perfectly against him.

"Bones, please don't make me regret saying that."

"Booth," she sighs as he moves her hair back to kiss her neck just below her ear. "I missed you, too."

_TBC..._


	9. The Silent Wings I'll Fly Away On

_**~o~ Chapter Nine - The Silent Wings I'll Fly Away On ~o~**_

The pitch and roll of the deck beneath Seeley Booth's feet combines with the beat of the sun on his neck to lull him into a kind of waking trance. He leans on the warm, wooden guard rail and hangs his head over, watching glittering breakers wash out from the side of the boat. It's been less than an hour since they landed and they are on the short hop from the main island to the smaller resort that will be their home for the next five nights. He's exhausted from lack of sleep – although he did his best to catch up on the flight over – but he's more than buoyed by the fact that they're finally here; they've gotten away together. He almost can't believe it.

Bones has been gone for a little over five minutes. She left on a mission to search the small boat and find the young man she'd spotted handing out brochures. Poor kid is probably getting a grilling on exactly what they can expect from their vacation at that very moment.

Booth doesn't know what to expect, exactly, but he knows what he wants. As long as it's just him and Bones, alone in their own little hut for the rest of the week, anything else is a bonus. He turns his face to the sky, eyes closed behind his shades, and lets the sun kiss his skin, his mouth turned up in a half-smile.

A moment later and he knows Bones is behind him, even before she slides quick hands around his waist and presses her chin to his shoulder.

"I have the brochure," she tells him. "I'm glad we chose this type of vacation."

"_We_ chose?" he laughs, turning in her arms until she effectively has him pinned against the railing. "This was _my_ award-winning idea, if you remember?"

She chuckles. "Then _you_ chose well. The resort is very exclusive – I don't think I paid enough attention when we were booking. We were very lucky to get such a late deal."

"Distracted were ya? Huh?" he teases, tugging her close and settling his hands at her hips. He remembers all too clearly snapping her laptop shut the moment the trip was paid for and finding very enjoyable ways to celebrate.

"A little," she agrees, with a cute grin.

"Good thing we didn't end up in some roach motel, then," he quips. Then he kisses her, smelling suntan lotion and tasting salt on her lips.

She catches his bottom lip between her teeth as he pulls away and he groans. "Do that again."

She does and watches him with heavy eyes when she pulls away. "A whole week, Booth."

"A whole week," he agrees. Then he holds her close and she tucks her head beneath his chin. She's a little shorter than he's used to in her strappy flip-flops. Her hair is warm from the sun. He grins. "Just us."

~o~

Brennan has been studying her brochure ever since she broke from Booth's embrace on the deck. Each couple gets their own luxury dwelling, known as a Hale - from, she presumes, the Hawaiian word for house. They are constructed of wood much like a log cabin, though the comparison isn't exact, as the pictures are of airy rooms with expensive linens, and wide windows, open to the ocean-view.

Now, Booth stands beside her on deck as the boat bobs into dock and raises his hand to point. "Look, wonder which hut is ours?"

Brennan has tried to argue against his terminology ever since they booked the trip and, now armed with the aforementioned brochure definition, she is even more passionate that he get it right, which – predictably – brings a softly bemused smile to his face. He remains unmoved, declaring that if it looks like a hut and it smells like a hut, then it's a hut. It is unclear to her how he'd smell them from this distance, or where he'd have garnered knowledge of the unique smell 'hut' to compare them to, but - as with many of his quirkier turns of phrase - she lets it slide.

Instead, she follows his gaze. There's a string of the squat little buildings along the gently-sloping, white-sand beach, and she too is trying to guess which they have been allocated as they wait for the boat to be moored.

She flips the last glossy page of the brochure and finds that the back pages are given over to the various excursions guests are able to purchase. Her eyes linger on a brightly colored banner advertising shark trips and she swallows tightly, flipping the book shut.

"Anything exciting?" Booth asks, nudging her arm with his. His skin is warm.

"We're here," she says in answer, leading the way to the disembarking point.

After a precarious walk up the short plank to the dock they join the others making their way to the reception area. They wait their turn in line and Booth entertains her by whispering funny observations about their fellow guests in her ear.

At the desk they are greeted by a cheerful woman with glossy red curls and incredibly pale skin that looks like it would be susceptible to burning by the sun.

"I'm Sierra," she chirps. "I'm your manager and will be here if you need anything throughout your stay."

"You are not a native of this area," Brennan informs her.

"Bones!" Booth hisses, as the woman says, "That's correct. My father owns the resort."

Brennan nods. "We have booked a room. The name is Brennan."

Sierra consults her computer. "Oh yes," she says. "I have some good news and some bad news." She chuckles. "Which would you like first?"

Brennan asks, "Why would I have a preference?" at the same time as Booth says, "The bad."

She glances behind her but defers to him when he shrugs. "The bad," she agrees, with a certain resignation.

"Well, the _bad_ news is that the original Hale you were allocated is no longer available."

"Why not?" Brennan asks, even as she raises a triumphant eyebrow at Booth and his 'hut'.

"The full story involves a jet ski and the demolition of one of the supporting walls," Sierra tells them, in a hushed voice.

"Wow," Booth responds.

"But do not fear," the manager pushes on, brightly. "As a result of a last minute cancellation we have upgraded you to the ultimate luxury of our Honeymoon Hale at no extra charge."

Brennan feels an immediate surge of a familiar, unwanted fear. They are only a few weeks into what she has accepted and embraced as the most important relationship she's ever had. She knows they are strong and has no doubt that she made the right decision in being with Booth – the _only_ decision she was capable of making after those terrible weeks where she felt like she was losing him. He is the only thing that has felt completely right in a long time. She knows all this, and most of the time she finds herself more at ease with this change between them than she ever thought possible. However, there are occasions such as this one, where she feels all those old doubts and long-ingrained fears keenly. Coming away with him is a big deal – as much as she has been looking forward to it. She wonders if spending the week in a dwelling meant for the newly-married may be a little too much. She is reminded sharply of Angela's postulation that there are several defined stages to a relationship, and wracks her impressive brain trying to remember which stage going on vacation together signifies. She must remember to ask her friend when they return home.

Brennan is still formulating a response to the woman's words when, to her surprise, Booth starts spluttering an objection of his own, saying things like, 'But we're not married' and 'It wouldn't be right.'

She takes an odd kind of comfort in his unease. Not in a mean-spirited way, but because it shows her that she is not carrying the burden alone. She is sure that his protests are motivated, not by his own discomfort, but by his fear that she might be overwhelmed, that she might pull away from this – from them – if it all becomes too much, too fast.

In the past, she acknowledges, he would have been right to worry – and she can hardly blame him after everything they have gone through to arrive at this point. She examines the facts. She still feels the fear. The difference is she recognizes it for what it is – and more importantly what it isn't (like the end of the world). In this way she is able to calm herself. It's almost like paying a kind of attention to them – arguing her case and presenting the evidence that supports, if not Booth's idea of a forever love, then hers of the day-by-day.

She is learning to move past her fears, though not before carefully labeling and cataloguing them; filing them in order of importance. She finds this easiest when they are a fear shared, such as now, and Booth's completely over-the-top reaction to the suggestion that they accept the offer of the best dwelling available even makes her chuckle.

"What? Why are you laughing?" he asks, a frown on his handsome face.

"Booth," she soothes, pressing a hand to his arm. "It's okay."

"Bones," he replies, pulling her to the side a step. "Everyone is gonna assume we just got married if we stay in that hut. Everywhere we go they'll be pushing extra drinks at us and asking about the ceremony."

Brennan shrugs. "What's wrong with extra drinks?"

He stares at her for a long moment. "You don't mind if people think we just got married?"

"If you would prefer we can inform anyone who gets the wrong idea that we have merely received an upgrade due to a motorized water sports activity gone awry," she says, with a smirk. "But it might be kind of fun."

With that she turns back to the desk to complete checking in, and misses the impressive jaw drop taking place behind her.

~o~

Booth is blown away; their hut really is sweet. It's bigger than all the others on the beach and best of all it's at the far end, with a big old gap between them and next door. He tips the guy that helped carry their bags and shuts the door behind him as Bones makes quick work of checking out all the rooms that run off the main space, which is even more light and airy than Bones' beloved brochure led them to believe.

The floors are polished dark-wood and there are strips of some kind of long, gauzy material at the windows which stir in the sultry breeze moving through the place. Running from room-to-room, his partner is like a kid in a candy store and he smiles warmly as she skips back through the last doorway.

"The bedroom has a terrace that overlooks the ocean," she tells him, eyes alight.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes." She takes his hand and tugs. "I would like to have sex out there."

His stomach flips, in equal parts surprise and arousal. He pulls her to a stop. "What, now?"

"We haven't yet had the opportunity to do so outdoors."

_Gimme a chance, Bones,_ he thinks. But what he says is, "We just got here!"

Her smile falls a little as she switches to 'thoughtful'. "Would it help if I rephrased?" she asks, stroking her thumb against the inside of his wrist, something which always drives him wild, for no reason he can fathom, besides it being her doing it. "I've found you most receptive if I ask that you make love to-"

"Bones! It's not – look, just for the record, I'm _always_ receptive," he near growls, tugging her against him, gratified when she smiles breathlessly. "You just took me by surprise, we haven't even unpacked – no, don't do that," he laughs, as she pouts.

She tips her head to the side and pushes a finger into the muscles of his stomach, which he tenses reflexively. She slides it upwards slowly and before she even reaches his chest he's moved lightning fast, scooping her over his shoulder and carrying her through the door.

"You asked for it," he warns, dumping her unceremoniously on the soft outdoor couch and pinning her there with the weight of his body.

Her eyes dance with delight and desire and he tugs at her shirt as they kiss desperately, finally rolling from the couch to the warm decking of the terrace.

Bones chuckles as she settles above him, peeling off her own shirt as he watches her, lit from behind by the sun, her eyes as blue as the sky above.

"I love-" he starts, but stutters to a stop as she goes still. "I love this," he finishes quickly. "Being alone with you."

She smiles, leaning down to kiss him quickly. "Me too."

"Are you sure we can't be seen?" he squeaks, as she tugs his t-shirt over his head.

"Very sure," she breathes, reaching behind her for the clasp of her bra, her breasts straining at the simple white cotton. "We are entirely secluded."

He smiles a feral smile as she shimmies out of it and tosses it aside, cupping her as she leans over him to lick at his jaw until he turns his head and sucks her into a kiss.

"You taste like salt," he breathes, after a moment, and she smiles.

"So do you, it's the sea-spray, from the boat. And out here, can you smell it?"

He nods, entranced by the dark of her lashes as she shuts her eyes and inhales. He slides a hand up to cup her neck, tangling his fingers in her hair and the soft swell of her breast presses against his arm. _She is so fucking beautiful,_ he thinks, _how did I get to be this lucky sonofabitch?_

"Can you feel it?" she murmurs.

"It?" he chuckles, totally gone on the feel and smell of her, pressing his lips to her throat.

"In the air?" she persists. "It's the high proportion of negative ions by the ocean - they cause it to… oh… it's - it's invigorating-"

He's still laughing, breathlessly. "That's it," he teases, "talk squint to me, baby, you know it gets me hot." He's only half-joking. All those years of wondering what she kept hidden under that lab coat had a certain effect on him.

She smiles wryly down at him and reaches for his hands, threading her fingers through his and leaning her weight into his palms. "Are you hot blooded, Agent Booth?"

He spins her beneath him and presses his mouth to her throat. "Check it and see," he murmurs, "got a fever of a hundred and three…"

She laughs, low in her throat. "And you're aroused by my scientific jibber-jabber?" she guesses, sliding a hand into his pants to test her hypothesis.

"I'm aroused by you." He drags a hand beneath her pretty, summer skirt and groans. "And you are _so_ turned on right now, aren't you?"

She sighs, opening herself to him, and he forgets about any kind of talking for a long time.

~o~

Monday morning dawns in altogether too brightly and loudly a fashion for Angela Pearly-Gates Montenegro-Hodgins. But the thrill of mentally-verbalizing her new name makes up for it as she climbs the steps of the Jeffersonian, dark glasses shielding her eyes from the early morning sunshine warming her hair, and the lack of sleep and over-consumption of alcohol battering her head.

She and Jack (her _husband_) have decided to arrive separately this morning, to prolong the time they get to keep this to themselves. Brennan might be lousy at keeping secrets, but Angela is determined to out-perform her genius friend. The thrill of sharing something so huge with her man is just too delicious. Plus she feels the need for Brennan to be the first to know. It was her friend's revelations about finally, _finally_ getting with Booth that had prompted the late night cab ride to Jack's place, that led to the talking into the small hours, that led to the moonlight flit to Vegas, that lead to 'Do you?' and 'I do'. A pair of them. They came in a pair. She grins as she winds through the stone corridors of the older part of the building.

Of course, now she is late and is scrambling for a suitable excuse for Cam when she bumps into Lance Sweets just outside the Medico-Legal lab.

"Angela," he says, with that toothy smile of his.

"Sweets," she replies, with a toothy smile of her own. "Here to see Daisy?"

"Uh… yes."

Angela's eyes narrow. "Or… not?"

The boy looks sheepish. "I was… wondering if you had talked to Dr Brennan, before she and Booth um… left." He looks left and right as if there might be spies around every corner.

Angela's eyebrow raises without conscious effort. She's just too full of good feelings to hide this one. "I know you know," she sings. "I know too!"

Sweets grins, but tempers his smile and clears his throat. "To be clear – you know…"

"That Booth and Brennan are an item. Together." She twists the first two fingers of her right hand together. "GF and BF."

"Oh, thank god," Sweets breathes, hustling her into a side alcove. "I've been dying to talk to someone about it!"

Angela wonders, for a brief moment, whether they are going to clasp hands and bounce on the spot in glee, and whether she might quite like to.

"They told you?" Sweets whispers.

"Brennan did."

"Wow. This is huge."

"To be fair I cornered her. But she was so happy."

Sweets grins so hard she imagines she hears his teeth cracking. "Isn't it totally awesome?"

Angela chuckles. "It really is." She watches the therapist as he near twitches with excitement. "Permission to – what is it you geeks do? Oh… squee," she adds, and is suddenly engulfed in a hug. "Easy, tiger," she squeaks, "you're a married man." _And I'm a married woman_, she adds silently, squeezing the life out of him in sheer delight at all the good in her world.

_TBC…_


	10. My Lover Stands on Golden Sands

_**~o~ ****Chapter Ten - My Lover Stands on Golden Sands ~o~**_

There's a little section of their semi-private beach that he's taken to calling 'Camp Sexy' - rolling dunes ending in soft white sands, a nearby line of towering palms, and twinkling emerald blue ocean stretching as far as the eye can see. It's nothing compared to the woman laying by his side right now, she who gives the 'Camp' its name, but it'll do.

It's kinda like those chunky necklaces she wears – only maybe in reverse. The jewelry enhances her, draws the eyes either up or down or in, and because it's _her_, any one of those directions is pleasurable. But this place? This place didn't even know the word sexy until Temperance Brennan stepped foot... and the rest of her... on it. She's the enhancer here. And her black bikini with the little white ties on the curve of each hip doesn't hurt a damn bit.

Mid-afternoon of day two finds the partners – in every sense of the word - sharing an oversize beach blanket underneath a large umbrella, positioned to block a bit of the most direct sun. They're side by side, their sand-covered feet extending in opposite directions, her propped in a low beach chair pretending to read a book, him laying on the blanket, arms crossed behind his head, pretending to sleep.

Really, what Booth is doing is replaying the sights and sounds of the last few days, weeks even, on the backs of his eyelids... and thinking. And thanking. And trying to abstain from a state of permanent erection. But Bones makes it hard. (Get it? Hard?)

He reaches over to grab her hand, pulling it from her book to rest with his on his bare stomach, his fingers tracing and tangling messily with hers as she strokes lightly along his midriff with her nails. "So whatcha wanna do tonight, Bones? Dinner, drinks, dancing?" He pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head, not quite managing to hide his leer on this last option: "Or we could always stay in?"

"We stayed in last night."

"I didn't hear you complaining." He pushes himself up to rest on both elbows, as her eyes track over his lean body: skin glistening with sunscreen, broad shoulders already bronzed after just a few cumulative hours in the sun, swim trunks tied low on his narrow hips...

She gives in and leans forward, bracing her hand on his stomach, book dropping to the blanket, and kisses him leisurely. "You either. I think it's safe to conclude that we're very sexually compatible."

"Is that the squint way of saying I'm good in the sack?" His cocky smile outshines the sun.

Her eyebrow raises and she takes on a knowing smile. "The data collected thus far points to that being fact, yes."

He licks his lips and leans toward her again, eyes drifting between the expanse of cleavage she's showing him and her face, looking relaxed, happy even, cheeks tinged pink from the sun. "More." Pushing up on one hand, he traces the other along her cheek, his thumb along the line of her smile before capturing her lips in a quick kiss. "More squint-speak."

"Through multiple replications using various experimental criteria, I have deduced that there is tangible proo-mmph-"

This. This he could get used to. Permanent erection be damned. She'd take care of him, he knows it. "Mmm... God, you taste like heaven." He smiles from where he now hovers slightly above her, licking his lips, savoring her. "And still with the salt. How many margaritas was that?"

She smacks his shoulder and laughs - after all, there's nothing wrong with enjoying the extra drinks - as he quickly jumps up, pulling her from their sandy towel and together they run hand-in-hand towards the white-cresting waves of the Pacific.

~o~

Later, after heavy "discussions" in the luxurious multi-jetted shower, every pro and con thoroughly presented and explored and vetted, they decide to go out – view a bit of what's available to them around this small island paradise.

They find a restaurant-nightclub not too far from their resort and remarkably it's hoppin' with a nice crowd of people moving on the open dance floor beneath a high thatched roof, the sounds of native Hawaiian tunes drifting between club standards and traditional rock-and-roll. Tables line the periphery, a half-wall and open shutters revealing the star-studded sky and the sound of the crashing waves echoing through the clean, pure night.

They'd had a nice dinner and now sit at the bar - a few drinks under their belts. Though neither of them are actually wearing belts. He'd chosen casual tonight - a pair of khaki pants and an un-tucked white button-up shirt, not quite buttoned-up (_"We're in a bar. It's a look."_). When she stepped out in her flirty black knee-length dress and heels, she'd noticed his look of desire, fleetingly replaced with concern, but had assured him he had no need to change.

He looked hot. As Angela would say, utterly lickable.

His reassurances that he thought the same of her had nearly meant another night in.

Now he's rolled up his sleeves and she's had a few drinks and they're turned into one another on their bar stools, legs touching (everything touching _because they can_), and she can't help but trace her finger along his forearm, seeing the definition there and watching his brachioradialis and forearm flexors tense in response to her light touch. His silver watch glints underneath the lights of the bar and she presses beneath the clasp, feeling his pulse pick up and tracing the warm flesh permanently etched with ebony ink. She smiles as his fist clenches, the strength in these hands...

His eyes are heavy-lidded in that way she now knows means desire and _need-you-now_ and he lifts her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingertips, her wrist, gently, reverently. The tingle that travels along her nerve endings when he does this - looks at her like this, touches her like it's the first time - never seems to lessen in intensity; it never recedes, never fails to be overwhelming. The crowd, however - the noise and bustle around them - fades away in an instant.

She leans in closer, and he's looking at her lips, licking his, the air thick with anticipation, when she is bumped in the back by the next patron over, nearly toppling her off her stool. Of course Booth's arms surround her, his solid body steadying her, and his "Watch it, buddy!" is followed by a profuse apology from a tipsy man in a garishly-patterned shirt.

But the moment...

"I'm just going to go to the restroom, Booth," she tells him, still supported by his hands at her waist. He nods and she squeezes his biceps, then turns, moving towards the back of the establishment.

When she returns after about five minutes, she's surprised to see someone now occupying her seat: a woman, long blonde hair, longer legs extending from an obscenely short skirt. She and Booth seem to be carrying on a conversation - which should come as no surprise since Booth is a very social person, able to comfortably converse with almost anyone. It soon becomes painfully obvious, however, that this woman is flirting with him when she laughs and leans into him, laying her hand upon his arm resting on the bar-top.

Brennan can't stop the strikingly familiar feeling from filling her. She watches him move his arm away, reaching for his glass to take a drink, yet he continues to talk and smile with the woman next to him.

Thoughts fill her mind, unbidden...

**~o~**

She's watching Sweets and Daisy, newly married, so obviously pleased with the choice they've each made to bind themselves to one another conceivably until death. And they look so happy about it all. It really was a beautiful wedding.

Sipping her glass of champagne, she turns her head back to Angela, to the conversation she and Hodgins and Wendell are having that she thinks she should probably find interesting. But instead she finds herself shifting in her seat and scanning the room for her partner - finally finding him sitting next to one of the round tables, drink in hand. He's watching their 'shrink' and her intern - the newlyweds. He doesn't look happy and she finds that this causes her stomach to sink, metaphorically speaking, and the corners of her eyes to sting.

He's speaking with Cam… or rather Cam is speaking to him. She sees the pathologist - _no_, not tonight. Cam is so beautiful and radiant dressed in elegant yet simple black; she's nothing but woman this night. Probably one of the few who really know Booth, perhaps even better than herself. She sees this woman, who has a completely different knowledge of her partner, lay her hand upon his knee and can't fight the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She knows jealousy. She knows feelings.

She's seen him on dates with other women. She's been on dates with other men.

And she has no claim, not now especially – though Angela tells her that sometimes a person has no control over who their heart chooses to love. She almost wants to believe that – that the heart is more than a muscle (and muscles can't be broken but she knows they can be ripped, crushed-), that maybe they all know something her brilliant mind can't grasp and the heart really _is_ able to aid in decision-making.

Like in her father's trial. Booth would say that she had "put her heart in overdrive" in regard to the events that led to Max's innocent verdict. But she knows it was simply a case of displaying the facts in another logical manner, thereby casting doubt in the minds of the jury.

She's had many months to sift through the motives she had during that time - the undeniable fact that she _knew_ her father was guilty of murder. But that fact seemed blurred, clouded by the knowledge that _his_ motives had been out of love for his family. It was only a small leap for her to realize that hers had been as well.

And those actions had seemed so right at the time.

But now? To relinquish that control to anything but the brain? It's just not rational.

Those times - the times they were on dates with other people? It hurt. Every time.

And even _this_ time, looking at him speaking with his friend. Rationally, she knows the two are just that. Friends.

But she wishes she could be that person for him. The one he's been for her so often. She wishes she knew the right things to say, the right things to do.

She confided in Angela a few days after the events in Sweets' office and outside the Hoover. The events that changed everything. Her friend made a few things very clear to her. First of all, adamantly voicing her level of disappointment in Brennan's reactions that night - which was really not surprising in the least - and secondly, helping her see that the desire to have things be 'the-way-they-were-before' is naive and somewhat childish.

The other result was Angela's own desire to see the whole situation between the two partners set to rights. Whether that be the restoration of their strong friendship (by not avoiding the pachyderm in the room, but acknowledging it and 'moving on', moving past it) or the development of something _more_ (Angela's vote, of course, involved riding that elephant off into the sunset or something equally ludicrous). But regardless, her friend says the ball is in her court, it's her move to make.

She's not completely sure what all of that means, what path she should choose, but she knows she hates what they're becoming. Even if she's not sure what that is. _Especially_ since she's not sure what that is...

She's not good at change. Change for her has rarely been a positive experience.

But maybe...

_Love is a chemical process which causes delusion. An intellectually rigorous person would never get married._

... maybe it's _abrupt_ change...

_You believe that love is transcendent and eternal. I want to believe that, too._

...she can't handle.

_Perhaps love comes first, and then creates the reaction._

And if she is honest with herself - truly, completely, painfully honest - she's that girl.

That girl who knew.

Right from the beginning.

But still ran. Still avoided. Still...

Her eyes flit once again to the newly married couple, swaying slowly together to the romantic music filling the reception hall, openly sharing kisses, smiles, affection. Love.

And she looks back to her partner. The man she's struggled beside for so long, the man she's learned so much from over time, the man she's realized so many things about recently.

"I want that," she murmurs and moves to place her long-stemmed glass on the nearest table.

"With him." She finishes to no-one, to everyone, as she walks toward her partner, intent on asking him for a dance… _the_ dance.

**~o~**

She returns to their place at the bar and places her hand on his back. He turns to her with a smile but it fades quickly when he sees the look on her face.

"Dance with me." Not a question. She's no longer in a questioning mood. She knows what – _who_ - she wants and she knows that she will have him.

The music is very upbeat, up-tempo, and she pulls him off the bar stool and to the dance floor. "Show me what you've got, Booth," she tells him above the music, tugging him close. Leaning in to his ear, she purrs, "No holding back."

He sees exactly how serious, and how aroused, she is with one look in her eyes. He may not know exactly why the sudden change, at least not yet, but he adopts the same demeanor, immediately determined to give this woman he loves so fucking much exactly what she's craving tonight.

Her mouth is set in a straight line, tight. Her eyes flash in the minimal lighting of the dance floor, and every time she looks at him with that smoldering blue fire, he feels himself ratcheting up another notch. He's not sure what brought this on, but if he had to guess... he glances back to the bar, sees the woman he'd been talking to now watching them. And before he can so much as smirk at the blonde, at the knowledge of what this must be, he feels his partner's fingers on his jaw, pulling his focus back to her. She doesn't say anything... doesn't have to. _Mine_. It's written all over her face.

Bones is jealous and god if that doesn't make him hotter than hell.

Their actions are quick, measured in time with the music, their grip on one another tight, intense. He pushes her away from him, still holding to one hand, then smoothly twirls her back into him, her back to his front. Her hand is tucked into his, his arm around her waist as he pulls her close, pressing their hips tight so she can feel him beginning to respond to her. He whispers in her ear, "What's this all about, Bones?" Then he flips her around to face him and once again begins to move her around the floor.

She raises her chin to him, their faces so close he can feel her breath on his lips. "I think you know."

"That woman?" She sees the flash of his smile just as he spins her out again, bringing her right back in to dip her, his hand splayed across her back, fully supporting her, his other hand at her hip, his thumb rubbing circles. "Jealous, baby?"

She grips his shoulders hard as he raises her back to standing, her leg wrapping around the back of his and sliding down. Their bodies are so tightly pressed together, they can feel every breath, every curve, every hard plane. Her eyes narrow onto his, her voice low and dripping with intensity. "Do you want me to be?"

His lips are millimeters from hers, his breath coming in pants that have nothing to do with physical exertion. "God, you make me so fucking hot, Temperance."

Her hands trace down his chest to his waist and one travels further to lift his shirt and slip beneath, resting on the waistband of his pants. "You didn't answer my question, _Seeley_."

He fights to keep his eyes open as her nails trace the bare skin along his waist, around to his back, holding him close. They're barely moving, standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor, surrounded by half-drunk tourists in flip-flops and flowery shirts - and yet he'd swear this is the sexiest moment of his whole fucking life. "I'm yours, baby. No one but you can ever make me feel like this." He pulls her closer by her hip, daring her to deny the unmistakable proof; feeling her sharp inhale, her lips against his neck, at his words and actions. And immediately following, directly in her ear, "Now, answer my question. Are you mine?"

He feels her shudder in his arms, her mouth opening slightly as her shaky exhale near his ear sends an electric shock down his spine. He has a flash of panic that she'll say no, that she'll spout off anthropological facts about ownership and lord knows what else. That she'll decide he's not worth it and...

"I need..." She pulls him close by his shoulders and breathes against his lips before capturing them with her own, "I need you to take me home. _Make_ me yours."

~o~

They make it out of the bar, walking hand-in-hand back up the beach toward their hut. Every now and then she'll squeeze his hand, or he'll stroke his thumb along hers, but they don't look at each other. Their focus is straight ahead, eyes on that last dwelling... as if they catch the eye of the other, they might never make it.

She doesn't look at him, but her breathing is heavy and her voice hitches as she whispers his name into the salty ocean air.

And that's all it takes for him to spin her into him and attack her lips, to pull her tight to him at her waist and thread his hand in her hair at the back of her neck. His moan, her whimper, is caught in between their connected mouths, their breath passing back and forth as they break suction but never part, tongues and teeth taking over.

"Bones... need you..." he gasps against her chin, bending his knees and trailing his lips down her throat to the heaven between her breasts. His hands are cupping, pulling, circling, driving her insane.

She drops the heels she's been carrying and they land with barely a sound in the sun-warmed sand beneath their feet. She's reaching for him, any purchase she can find, the need to crawl inside him nearly overwhelming. "Take me, Booth... make me yours... make me..."

His hands are cupping her hips now, pulling her flush to him, raising her skirt to obscene heights; all the while his mouth nipping at her chest, his tongue tracing the bust-line of her dress.

She realizes, almost after the fact, that she's got his shirt completely unbuttoned and sliding down his arms. Before it's even hit the ground below them, she's stroking and raking her nails over the warm bronze flesh of her man. "Mine," she growls as she bites into the tight flesh of his shoulder, not nearly enough to break the skin but enough to leave marks and hopefully no doubt in his mind how she needs this to go.

He inhales sharply at her bite and pulls back to look at her, cast in a rhapsody of moonlight and shadows, the sea-winds blowing her hair to one side then the other. He never would have thought it possible that she could be this gorgeous, this sexy, this special to him. "You are so beautif-"

"Don't you dare..." She grips his arms tightly, rubbing herself wantonly along his erection, then digs her fingers in his hair, leaving it disheveled - the way, she secretly thrills, it looks when he comes up from between her thighs. "Don't you dare hold back on me now, Booth. Fuck me. Make me yours."

There's no more waiting, it's not even worth the fleeting thought of continuing the short distance down the thankfully-secluded beach to the guaranteed privacy of their Hale. It looks like the minimal shelter of a nearby outcropping of lava rocks is as much cover as they'll be afforded. He grips her tightly and pulls her up onto him, her arms and legs reflexively wrapping around him. He falls to his knees, the warmth of the shifting sand actually feeling cool as it transfers through his slacks to contact his overheated body.

His face is buried in her breasts once again and he wastes no time pulling the tiny straps of her dress down her shoulders, moving to feast on the freckles he can't see but knows have been highlighted by her recent time in the sun, tracing every indelible mark with his tongue.

She's grinding against him in his lap, her hands squeezing through the narrow space between them to unbutton and unzip his pants, then immediately slipping inside, stroking him firmly through his boxers. He's managed to move her dress down around her waist, exposing her strapless black bra of which he makes quick work and flings to the side.

She's still stroking him, still grinding, now against her own hand against him and he's about to lose it. Sucking a pert nipple in his mouth, he's groaning against her with every thrust until he finally snaps. "Stand up."

"Booth..."

"No arguing." He grips behind her thighs and pulls, feeling her brace her hands on his shoulders and rise to her feet. "Spread your legs." He's kissing and nipping along her thigh, heading directly toward where she wants him most. "Do you want me?"

"Booth..."

"Do you want my tongue inside you?"

"Yesss..."

He takes her hands from where they still grip his shoulders, directing one to lift the skirt of her dress to the side and places the other against her own throbbing center. "Then make way, baby."

She gets the idea and pulls her panties to one side, just as he grips her thighs and dips his head to taste her. His arms flex as he holds onto her, helping to support her weight a bit as her knees threaten to give way. He's licking and sipping and teasing as all the while she's thrusting her hips towards his mouth, seeking more pressure, more delicious friction.

He moves one hand to the small of her back, its width spanning her ass as well, pressing her closer into him until she's nearly straddling over his face. His other hand, hurriedly releases himself from his pants and boxers.

Her moans, her shaking legs, her pulsating center are all telling him that she's very close. He grabs her hips and pulls her back, wincing at the sound of her frustrated moan. He looks up at her, deep into her hooded eyes and in a low, rough growl, "Are you mine, Temperance?"

"I need you, Booth... god, please..."

She's begging for it, but still can't relinquish that last shred of control.

He pulls her hips, bringing her down to hover just above him. "This is what you want?"

Her hand reaches between them to grab him and her intent is clear. Before she can manage to connect them, he grabs her wrist.

"No... c'mon Booth... no holding back... give me-"

Her groan floats away on a crashing wave as he presses forward into her, just a bit, both their hands still holding tightly. Slowly, so slowly until progress is stopped by her fist around him and his fist around hers. He lifts his other hand from her trembling thigh, his fingers cupping her chin. Brushing his lips across hers, "You... keep telling me to make you mine... but that's something _you've_ got to give, baby. You've gotta give it to me, Bones. Can you do that? Give yourself... to me?"

Her legs flex as she raises and lowers herself over that mere inch of him, knowing it's not nearly enough, but unable to stop completely. And finally, finally...

"God, Booth... I already did. Have... so long ago... god, I knew too. I've been yours all along. Yours. Yours..." He releases his grip after the first few words and her hands move to his face, her eyes gleaming with the truth as her body sinks down onto his, joining them, making them one.

Her chanting mixes with his, alternating _yours_ and _mine_ until neither knows who is saying which, both saying both, the distinction becoming insignificant as all is lost, swallowed by the ocean waves (_wave after wave after wave after wave_) echoing in their ears, rippling across their joined bodies. A dance as old as time.

~o~

Several hours later, after trading the sand for another shower and then their luxurious bed, the two are relaxed with one another, even if a little less than talkative. The raw emotion they exuded on the dance floor and later exchanged on the beach, the power they each allowed the other to have, the usually tight-reined control - it was all unleashed upon the other in such a visceral reaction, leaving them utterly exposed in a way neither had ever felt before. Almost a "what the fuck was that?" moment.

This new aspect, frontier, of their relationship has thus far involved a degree of uncertainty on both their parts, but it has not driven them apart - on the contrary, they've remained within arms reach or closer of one another since returning to their Hale.

They appear to be drowning in the refreshing, cotton linens of their king-size bed, her head resting on his shoulder, fingertips drawing random patterns across his chest, his doing the same along her arm.

It's late, they're tired - both physically and emotionally exhausted - but the 'noise' of her thinking prompts Booth to conversation, lest they never get to sleep.

"That woman... she wasn't flirting, Bones. Her name was Anna, her husband had some bad fish and was back in their hut - she was getting herself some takeout and stopped to have a drink."

"Still... that... she shouldn't have been touching you."

"Some people are just friendly like that, Temperance. It didn't mean anything," he whispers into her hair.

"I..." She ducks her chin, pulling the cool sheet further under her arm. "Why is this so hard for me?"

"Bones, I think you're doing great. And we're just taking it day-by-day. No one ever said love is easy."

She raises up, propping her arms on his chest, her eyes delving into his. And then he realizes just what it is he said.

"I... Bones..." He stutters, taking her curiosity and mild impatience to be something akin to annoyance... or fear.

"Are you ever just going to say it?" She points her finger into his chest, helping to convey this clearly. "I've been... I know how important it is for you. And I figured you'd want to be the one to say it first. But, I'm going to beat you to it if-"

"Bones..." Suddenly it's like he can't catch a breath. "God, baby. God yes, I love you." He's peppering kisses (and those three words) all over her face, her lips, her neck, and then rolls to press her underneath him. "So much. For so long. I just didn't want..."

She puts her finger against his lips, taking his face in her hands and drawing him to her. "I love you, too."

_TBC..._


	11. Our Past, Their Present, Your Future

_A/N: Thank you, once again, for all the wonderful reviews and alerts. There are four chapters left, including this one. Enjoy!_

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_**~o~ Chapter Eleven - Our Past, Their Present, Your Future ~o~**_

Jack Hodgins wants to kiss Seeley Booth. He wants to take his face in his hands and tell him, 'Thank you, my friend, for finally manning up. Thank you for inspiring my crazy, wonderful Angela and I to do the same. I stand here before you a married man, and I owe it all to you, dude. Now pucker up…'

Okay, so it's not _all_ because of Booth, and were he to actually attempt a lip-lock with the G-man he's fairly certain he'd be shot, but the love he has for his friend right now knows no bounds. Hey, he's a metrosexual kinda guy.

As an extension of this brotherly love, he can't help thinking that no-one deserves an intimate island getaway more than said friend and Dr. B, and he can't help discussing this fact with Angela at every available opportunity; even at times and in places where they really shouldn't. Like the forensic platform in the Medico-Legal lab, shortly before lunch this sunny Tuesday morning.

He is not _entirely_ to blame. There's a reason why discretion ain't Angela's middle name. He is near to completing the painstaking task of cataloguing slides from their latest case when she sidles up to him, her eyes alight.

"So it's eleven thirty five," she announces, tapping her watch. "That makes it five thirty five in paradise. Wonder what our little love birds are up to, because you just know they're not sleeping." There's the customary flick of an eyebrow and he's putty in her hands, leaning in far closer than he should be if they want to keep this whole marriage thing a secret a moment longer.

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs.

"Oh god," Angela whispers. "We _have_ to go on honeymoon, as soon as they get back."

"Hell yes," he agrees, stealing a kiss and then looking around quickly to make sure they remain undetected, his face heating.

Angela chuckles. "Smooth, babe."

He clears his throat, turning back to his work station. "So, uh… what's on your agenda today?"

"Don't spoil my fun," she whines, walking two fingers up his back. "I want to talk about…" she lowers her voice to a soft purr "…wandering along a diamond-white beach. Soft sand." She grins. "Palm fronds kissing the water. Sun, sea, sarongs… salty skin."

"Oh god," Hodgins breathes, gripping the edge of his desk.

"I am so jealous of Brennan right now," Angela confides. "What I wouldn't give to be lying on a beach, hot guy at my side…"

Hodgins' ardor dies. "Hey, just _any_ hot guy?"

She chuckles. "No not just any."

He gives her a satisfied smile and returns to his work.

"Although," she muses, "I'll bet Booth looks great in those little skimpy trunks."

"That's it," Hodgins snaps, throwing his pen to his desk and tugging her to him, his hands at her waist. "Just as soon as Booth and Brennan return from their romantic getaway you and I are on the next flight. They don't get to have the monopoly on sneaking off together to the sun."

Angela giggles softly, gazing into his eyes. "Oh, but it's so romantic," she murmurs. "After all this time, they're finally together."

And this is the point at which Dr Camille Saroyan pauses beneath the platform, ears tuning in to their conversation.

~o~

Cam is not an idiot. She didn't rise to the dizzy heights of running this lab without a degree from both a regular university _and_ the university of life. Book smarts? Yes. Street smarts? _Oh_ yes.

So it's not like she doesn't immediately know who Angela and Hodgins are not-so-quietly talking about. She's also not the type of friend to have had the conversation she and Booth had at Sweets' wedding and then turn her thoughts immediately to other matters – inspecting her manicure, say. Hell, no. She watched, with her heart in her throat, as the man she cared so deeply for took the second biggest chance of his life in as many months. Okay, so she couldn't hear the words exchanged by the partners as she watched them out there on the dance floor, but she could sure read their body language, see the way they clung to each other, shipwrecked in a swirling ocean of pastel chiffon. What was it about summer weddings that brought out the worst in peoples' dress sense? She had worn her simple black dress with dignity and style.

She had watched her friends leave the room hand-in-hand and at a near-run and she had smiled, swallowed the lump in her throat and ably distracted Angela for long enough that the suspected new couple could make good their escape.

Since the wedding she had not pried into the events of that evening, content to infer from the seemingly permanent grin now worn by one Seeley Joseph Booth that things were better than okay. And then came Brennan's, 'We're um… going on a… uh… partners' retreat… um…' and she'd done what any good friend would have under the circumstances – kept her mouth shut, her smirk internalized and smoothed the path to wherever it was they were actually going as best she could. She's certain that wherever they are, they're not so much retreating from the routine of work to brush up on their team-work, but retreating from life to work on _them_. She wishes them all the luck in the world.

Thinking of the partners as a couple is… interesting. Cam knows she will always love Booth. But these days it's a familial love. In some ways it always was. She came from a large, loving family and he _so_ did not. Looking back she knows that she responded on some deep level to his need for nurture. Not something she'd ever admit to out loud. At the time she was convinced she was drawn in by his striking good looks, by the breadth of the shoulders bearing such terrible burdens, by the brooding soul that smoldered in his dark eyes (she really should stop reading those trashy romance novels). Over the years the love she felt for him both grew stronger and changed. She'd never have described them as romantic, and now they were so far from that the mere thought could make her chuckle. These days he's family, as simple and as perfect as that. Any relationship they'd shared before pales beside the knowledge that she knows no-one she trusts more; that she has known no-one stronger nor more decent in all her life.

She wishes him the best, most lasting kind of happiness, and while she is fairly certain that notion is something Dr. Brennan will struggle with, the very fact that she is clearly trying fills her with warmth for the awkward, fascinating woman in whom Booth has met his perfect match.

She is beyond happy for both of them, and damned if she isn't going to protect them from idle gossip. The decision to intervene is further reinforced when she spots Daisy and Sweets entering the lab.

Angela is verbally painting a vivid picture of some kind of _From Here to Eternity_ re-enactment with Booth and Brennan in the starring roles, when Cam marches up the platform steps and clamps her hand over her mouth.

The pathologist wonders if it's wrong to be quite so satisfied by Angela's wide-eyed, shocked expression as she tries to decide how best to stop Booth's news spreading throughout her entire lab.

~o~

It's early enough that the sky is streaked with red beyond the open drapes, but the breeze that stirs them lazily is already warm, carrying the promise of the days heat with the spicy ginger scent of the plants growing on their terrace.

Booth stretches languidly and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, rubbing away sleep. His every muscle is infused with a kind of pleasant ache, overused and under-slept – but he's definitely not complaining.

Beside him, Bones doesn't stir as he slips from their bed and pads across cool tile to the en suite, taking care of an urgent need to pee before studying his reflection in the mirror as he lathers his hands with the sickly-sweet complimentary soap. Is that really him looking back, that guy barely containing a smile at this ungodly hour of the morning? That guy with clear eyes and a face smoothed of any lines of worry?

He decides he's probably imagining that he looks different, as he dries his hands. But maybe it's not so far-fetched – he can't deny he _feels_ different. A tension he's been carrying around for as long as he can remember has released, leaving behind a version of himself that finally feels truly happy, relaxed, _right_ for the first time in a very long time. He shoots the man in the mirror a cocky grin, then shakes his head as he returns to Bones' side. He may be feeling cocky now, but he knows there was a big part of him that thought she'd never say it.

His partner has rolled to her right, facing away from him on her side of the bed and the light sheet they are favoring in this climate has slipped to rest against the flare of her hip, barely concealing the rest of her from his hungry gaze. The fact that she somehow manages to be strong and lean yet curved and womanly all at once has long been something he's admired from afar. Now he gets to see those curves in all their glory, gets to touch not just look, and the barest peek is enough to light a long-familiar fire in his belly.

In the rose-light of the dawn she is luminous, a sleeping angel, skin glowing where she has caught the sun despite his enthusiastic application of lotion at every opportunity. Her arms are tucked at her chest, her shoulder blade a sharp angle that he drags a finger-tip across, breath held in anticipation of her waking. From there he follows the line of her spine, down over silken skin, increasing the pressure as he reaches what he's pretty sure is the last of her lumbar vertebrae – he'd be able to say for sure if he could see her bones beneath all that pretty flesh (he pays attention), but she'd know by touch alone.

Then he's sliding his palm beneath the sheet, unable to resist the sweet swell of her ass. If he was ever kidding himself that he was hoping for anything other than having her right this second it becomes a true exercise in futility once he's standing to attention beneath the sheet, nudging her thigh as she gives a breathy moan and pushes back into him as she wakes.

~o~

Upon waking, Brennan is first aware of the heady spice of the flowers on the terrace, but it's an observation that is quickly forgotten at the warm slide of Booth's hand under her bottom, long fingers questing low, pressing into her from behind. Her first deliberate breath is a gasp.

Long moments later she is mourning his loss, until he presses fingertips to her hip and then her belly, painting her with her own arousal and tugging her back as he rocks forward and fills her. They share a groan and he sinks his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder, retaliation, no doubt, for her bite of the night before. She releases his name on a moan as the hand at her belly slides between her legs, sure fingers slipping over her again and again until she experiences the curious sensation of sinking into heated bliss and flying all at once. She's panting his name as she feels her body draw him in, taking him with her.

"I love you," he presses to her ear. "Love you, love you, love you."

_TBC…_


	12. Those Stumblin' Words

_A/N: Thanks to **cathmarchr** for her help as beta for this and the next chapter - we're sure you've read her wonderful fic, but if not RUN now and check it out :)_

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**_~o~ Chapter Twelve - Those Stumblin' Words That Told You What My Heart Meant ~o~_**

Cam orders her two colleagues to her office, but it is Angela who speaks first, as she closes the door behind them. "You _know_?"

Cam nods. "I suspected and… _now_ I know."

Angela looks despondent. "Me and my big mouth."

"Oh come on," Hodgins soothes, sliding an arm around the artist's shoulders in a gesture just slightly more affectionate than Cam expects from the former-lovers. "It's not like we all wouldn't have worked it out eventually."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Cam agrees, eyeing Hodgins' arm long enough that he drops it abruptly. "I talked to Seeley at the wedding, I saw them dance. I'm guessing that's the night it all… came together."

Angela grins, grabbing Cam's arm. "It was! You spoke with Booth? That must have been one hell of a pep-talk - you go, girl!"

Cam shakes her head with a wry smile. "I take no credit – the way he was talking, it must have been Dr. Brennan that made the first move."

"Man," Hodgins sighs, "now I gotta kiss both of them."

Angela gives him her best 'WTF?' face while Cam perches on the edge of her desk.

Hodgins shakes his head and Cam blinks. "Oo-kay… so where exactly are they?" she asks, eyes alight.

Angela literally bounces. "Hawaii. Oh it's so perfect!"

Cam chuckles. "Wow. Good for them." After a moment she shrugs. "So now what? We all know something Booth and Brennan hoped to keep secret. What do we do about that?"

"We take it to the grave," Hodgins professes solemnly.

Angela rolls her eyes. "Or we keep our lips zipped until they come back and tell everyone in their own time," she amends, in slightly-less dramatic terms, then turns to Cam. "I should tell you that we're not the only ones to know."

Cam frowns. "Who else?"

"Sweets."

"What? How come?"

"Booth told him."

"He what? Why?"

Hodgins speaks up. "Hacker."

Cam's eyes grow wide. "Ohhh. Okay, hang on."

She sticks her head out of her office and spots the psychologist leaving the platform – and, crucially, he's alone. "Dr. Sweets!" she bellows. "A moment of your time!"

Lance feels, for some reason, that he is entering the lion's den as he shuffles into Cam's office, eyeing its other occupants warily. "What's going on?"

Angela raises an eyebrow. "She knows."

"She knows?" he asks. "You mean she knows the… thing? The big _thing_ there is to know?"

"Yes, Sweets."

He nods. "Wow, okay." Then his eyes grow wide. "Just to be clear-"

"Oh for heaven's sake," Cam groans. "I know about Booth and Brennan and them being together and their romantic island getaway and all of it."

Sweets nods. "Okay."

"What about Daisy?" Cam asks him. "Have you told her?"

Sweets shakes his head. "Noooo… but, now that _you_ all know… maybe I could…" he trails off under the weight of everyone's glare. "Okay, so that's still a no." He crosses his arms and pouts. "You know, she _is_ my wife."

Angela flickers a loaded look at Hodgins and he sees her resolve weaken. "Maybe Sweets should be allowed to share," she says. "I mean she's gonna find out some time." Her eyes widen. "And she does have major connections for cake… in say, a celebratory capacity?" She turns to Sweets, "That cake at your wedding was orgasmic!"

Sweets blushes. "Trust me, I know."

Hodgins pulls a face. "Ewww, man. Did _not_ need to go there."

"Guys!" Cam shouts, raising a hand. "Let's stay on point. No-one is telling anyone else – this has got far enough out of hand as it is. So, Dr. Sweets…" She turns to him. "Where does Hacker think they are this week?"

Sweets smiles. "Booth told him you sent all the squints on a forensics training thing." He chuckles. "And he totally bought it."

"I …" Cam trails off and pinches the bridge of her nose. "So what you're telling me is _I'm_ Booth's alibi, and I didn't even know it? Thanks a bunch, Seeley."

"But it'll all be okay," Angela reasons. "They're flying back on Friday evening and no-one will have any clue where they've been. We just need to keep it between ourselves until then."

"Okay," Cam says. "Everyone keeps it zipped. No talking about them at all – and if we need to, we do it in private." She directs the last of this to Angela with a pointed look.

Angela giggles. "Hodgins and I were using a code. We were calling them the love birds."

Cam makes a face. "Oh, wow, okay… because that's original."

Hodgins raises an eyebrow. "We were gonna go with the Latin name, but we kinda thought it was inappropriate."

"Why, what is it?" Sweets asks, already smiling in anticipation.

Hodgins grins. "Let's just say they belong to the genus _Agapornis_."

Cam rolls her eyes with a chuckle.

Angela grins, "I think it's _very_ appropriate."

"Do you think Hacker will let them stay partners?" Hodgins asks Sweets suddenly.

The psychologist purses his lips. "I think that is exactly what Booth is worrying about," he tells them. "But I think it's unfounded. Hacker is not likely to split them up. They have the highest solve rate of like, _anyone_." His pride is obvious and Angela smiles affectionately.

Cam nods but frowns. "Even if he gets vindictive?"

Angela laughs. "Because he had a thing for Brennan? Please, as if anyone who ever met her and Booth didn't know they were destined to be together."

There is a collective murmur of agreement before Angela goes on, "You know, I'm kind of insulted they thought they could keep this from us."

"They told you," Cam points out.

"Only after I guessed something was going on," Angela says.

"They only told me in case Booth's boss found out," Sweets adds.

"And I only know because Angela can't keep her trap shut," Hodgins adds, to a dig in the ribs from the owner of said trap.

Cam's eyes narrow. She sees the potential for something here. "Okay, hands up who saw this coming from a bajillion miles away," she says.

At the unanimous show of hands she nods. "Would it be really mean to have a little fun at their expense when our little Ag… Aga…?" She looks to Hodgins.

"_Agapornii_," he chuckles.

Cam nods. "Yeah them – when they return?"

"Like what?" Angela asks, her eyes dancing.

"I'll think of something," Cam assures her. "Now get back to work, everyone. And not a mention of those _Agapornii_." She sighs as she follows them through the door. She has an autopsy to supervise.

As they leave her office and split in several directions, Lance watches them go. "We're not _actually_ going to call them that, are we?"

~o~

They'd been to the local island market which had proven surprisingly well-stocked - lush with fresh catch-of-the-day fish, vegetables and fruits, even pasta and herbs. Along with the wide variety of grocery items, there were stands displaying the wares of local jewelry- and textile-makers, as well as the typical touristy fare. So they'd spent several hours and brought back enough to stock their fridge and cupboards for the next few days, assuring them even fewer interruptions in the all-too-swiftly-approaching end to their private time together.

After a quick lunch, they actively decide-not-to-decide anything and spend the afternoon on the beach just relaxing and enjoying one another. It's something that proves more difficult than either of them care to admit.

It's hard to do nothing.

But if Seeley Booth _has_ to do nothing, there is no one else he'd rather do nothing with. Just watching her face, her sunglasses in place, hands gesturing elaborately as she puts forth yet another argument. Heaven.

"Booth, it's impossible to do nothing. I mean, take us, right now. We're laying on a beach, we're talking-"

"You're talking, I'm watching."

"See?"

"What?"

"That's your not nothing. Watching. Listening. To me."

Her self-satisfied smirk, proves to be too much - plans begin forming in his mind. Just a bit more talky... "Bones, they've made entire television shows about nothing."

"Impossible! Unless the characters simply sit in a room and stare at a blank wall... well, even then, they'd be staring. There's no way..."

"Okay, us right now. We're 'doing' nothing." Air quotes.

"You mean physically?"

"Yes, we're just laying here, fully relaxed. Yes, conversing, but still. _Doing_ nothing."

"Well... maybe."

His eyebrow arches. Could it possibly be this easy? Concession from Temperance Brennan after only, - he reflexively looks at his wrist for his watch, which of course he's not wearing, but... wow. Normally, out-logic-ing the Queen of Logic herself is like an all-day event.

It unnerves him and instantly puts him on alert, former plans be damned. "That's it?"

"Well, I would much rather be doing 'something'." Her own well-manicured air quotes appear in the warm, salty breeze. And then she's rolling towards him, fingertip coming to rest on his bottom lip, tracing across the light stubble on his unshaven chin, and following an invisible path lower, lower. Lower.

"This is your idea of 'something', then?" He smirks and doesn't bother to repress the light shiver that passes through him at her touch.

"I believe I've successfully proven this is the best kind of 'something', Agent Booth." She licks her lips and leans in playfully brushing hers against his, before pulling back and capturing his bottom lip in that way she knows drives him crazy. And just as he's responding, his arms moving to pull her into him, she jumps up, grabs his hands and starts pulling. "One more swim, then it's me, you and 'something' for the rest of the night."

"You're on, babe." It'd never been as easy to do 'nothing' or 'something' or 'anything' in his life as it was with her.

As they enter the warm waves, he pulls her close and asks, "Bones? What are your thoughts on 'anything'?"

"With you. I'm always up for 'anything'." She laughs as they wade out deeper, then wraps herself around him, allowing him to manage the both of them against the rhythm of the waves.

"I'll keep that in mind." He smiles, kissing her and turning his back to the surf, shielding her from the pounding Pacific.

~o~

An hour later, they're reclining in the large whirlpool tub, washing away the sweat and sand of the day in a relaxing swirl of bubbles and massaging jets. Her back to his front, his arms secure around her waist, lips at her ear. His whispered "I love you" makes her smile - so content, so damn happy.

"Do you remember when you told me how sometimes, on vacation, you think about not going back home?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"I think I finally understand what you meant by that."

"I'm glad. I feel the same way."

She turns her head and they share a sweet kiss, one full of longing, full of if-I-could-make-that-happen-for-you-I-so-would. She rotates slightly, her head on his shoulder, hand resting at his waist. "Did you think that back then? About not coming back?"

"About not coming back to work with you?" Upon her nod, he raises his fingers from the water and cups her chin to look at him. "Never, Bones. From the beginning, I knew it was gonna be you and me."

"I think... maybe, I did, too." So many times she'd run or hidden or denied, so many missed opportunities stream unbidden into her thoughts. "I'm sorry, Booth... I..."

Whether they be tears or drops of water from their current environment, made no matter to him as he kissed her cheek, her eyes, every part of her he could reach. "No more being sorry, Bones. Not from either of us. C'mere..." He helps her turn fully to face him, sitting up straight to allow her to straddle him, the water streaming into their sides, the bubbles encompassing them in the center of the tub.

"You taste like salt again." He brushes her damp hair off her cheek and away from her face.

"Must be sea-water." She gives a small smile, but the sheen in her eyes won't allow her lie. Not like he will.

"Of course." He kisses her deeply, his lips and tongue tingling with the words he needs to say, the assurances she needs to hear, hoping he can organize them in a way she'll accept, but just the same trying to send them to her through this intimate connection. Through his love.

She gasps as she feels him fully engage in this; them; his mouth devouring hers, it's like she can feel the energy pouring from him into her. And she responds, with vigor, giving as well as receiving... this love, this overwhelming, so powerful force that she never believed in, that has patiently laid dormant for so long. Like a loyal canine, just waiting for her to acknowledge it - to feed it, to adore and nurture it... and up until now, each time he'd nuzzled, she'd pushed him away.

But now. Now, she is... she is _with_ him and yet thinking about...

She surprises him when she pulls him into position and sheaths him deep inside her. His groan, along with a throaty expletive, echoes through the room. His eyes had reflexively closed and upon re-opening, she's blessed with his beautiful face, clearly showing her the passion, the love he's feeling... for her. "So beautiful. So damn perfect."

She is feeling so much, too much, more than she's ever felt. Every time with him, she thinks it can't get any better, any bigger, any _more_. And it always does. Always. Does.

He caresses her beneath the water, her waist, her thighs, her back as she moves over him, above him - soft kisses, softer murmurs, gripping his arms - slowly building, climbing. The ache so deep inside her, constant for years now, soothed and acknowledged and urged to heal.

"I love you, Temperance... I love you." Holding her tightly as he feels her near the edge, he drinks in the sight of her and gasps, "Love you so much."

At his words, the pure adoration dripping from his voice, she loses that last tenuous hold on her control and shatters against him.

He watches her as long as he can until his head falls to her shoulder and he grips her hips, holding on through her spasms. She's breathing long and full against him, whispering in his ear and kissing his neck as she begins to move for him - fast, hard, with purpose and love, the water in the tub splashing against the sides and onto the tile floor surrounding them.

"Booth," she whispers against his jaw, sucking on his neck before cupping his head and drawing his attention. "Look at me, baby."

Hearing her call him that. Oh. His hands are flexing against her hips, helping her fight the buoyancy of the water as he thrusts in perfect counterpoint. His brow is tight with concentration, but he forces his eyes open at the sound of her voice.

"Look at me, Booth. Look at me, loving you."

He comes inside her hard and fast, her name on his lips, pure love in his heart.

~o~

The cool and effortless strains of Stan Getz float on the ocean breeze, filling the room with sax as they prepare dinner together, chopping and sautéing, nudging and laughing - loving.

Over their plates at the small dining table, Brennan can't help but smile and sigh. And Booth can't help but notice.

"You happy, Bones?"

She takes a bite of fresh pineapple-mango salsa. "Mmm... yes."

He nods and forks more steaming rice and mahi-mahi from his plate. And when he lifts his head, chewing, he catches her watching him, with this look. And all he knows is he wants to see it forever.

"How are we going to tell everyone? About us." And he's surprised _not_ to hear anxiety in her voice, surprised _not_ to see an ounce of hesitation in her eyes. And he wonders when he's going to learn not to be surprised by her. Hopefully never.

"Well," he takes a sip of his water, clears his throat and sits back in his chair. "I'd like to tell Parker first. Parker and Rebecca. If you don't mind."

"Not at all, that makes complete sense. I'm sorry you weren't able to let them know before we left."

Booth reaches across the table, palm up and waits for her to give him her hand. "It's definitely something I want us to do together." After linking their fingers, he adds, "Preferably, as soon as we get back."

"I'd like to tell my father and Russ soon as well."

"Your dad will be fine, he's been asking me if I'm gay for years," he chuckles. Then off her confused look, "Never mind."

"And I'd presume we'd need to inform our respective work parties next."

"Those that don't already know." He smiles and shakes his head. "Or that Angela hasn't already told."

"Or Sweets."

"Sweets knows better."

"Well, I don't think Ange would...What?" She wipes her mouth with her napkin as he continues to stare at her, smiling.

"Nothing. You're beautiful."

"And you're easily distracted." She takes a drink and he's suddenly on his feet and across the room. "What are you doing? Are you finished eating?"

He pulls open a drawer to a side table and lifts out a small package delicately wrapped in tissue paper, then returns to her side. He takes her hand, pulling her to stand, then sits in her chair and pulls her down to his lap.

Kissing her cheek, he gives her the gift. "Got ya a little something, Bones."

"Booth..." She looks deep into his eyes, looking for a reason, watching how the corners crinkle with his smile.

"Just open it."

She looks down and slowly begins to peel back the layers of paper, finding a small flat box inside. Lifting the lid, she reveals a beautifully handcrafted necklace - a delicate chain adorned with beads in vibrant yellow, blue, orange-red. They remind her immediately of the tropical flowers from the marketplace.

"The Bird-of-Paradise."

His smile widens and he gently taps her nose. "Exactly. This particular design is called 'Pumehana'. Ask me what it means."

She feels her eyes begin to prick, but nods and humors him just the same. "Tell me what that means."

"Warm-hearted. Warmth. Affection."

She rests her hand on his cheek, thumb stroking. "I love you."

"I know, baby." He kisses her gently. "You show me every day."

~o~

A day since making a secrecy pact with her colleagues regarding porny love birds, Cam is just swallowing the last bite of the disappointing salad she chose for lunch when her phone rings. She lifts the receiver. "Dr. Saroyan?"

"Awkward!" Angela's voice fills her ear. "Awkward, awkward – mucho awkward!"

"What is awkward, Angela?"

"Hodgins and I are at the diner," the artist tells her.

"And, what? They ran out of pie?"

"And we just saw Hacker."

"Oh no, Angela – what did you say?"

"Oh god, hon, I _blanked_! I couldn't think of one good reason we were here and Booth and Brennan were still on the forensics thingy."

Cam groans, resting her head in her hand. "What did he say?"

"He uh… he said he was going to call you – I'm really sorry, Cam, I didn't know what else to do!"

Cam sighs. "It's okay, Angela. I'll deal with him. Thanks for letting me know."

"Okay… ooh, Hodgins is bringing me ice cream, we'll see you soon."

Cam hangs up and taps a finger to her nose, wracking her brains to think up an excuse. She jumps when her phone trills again almost instantly. "You'd better appreciate this, Booth," she mutters, taking a deep breath before answering.

"Dr. Saroyan."

"Dr. Saroyan, it's Andrew Hacker here."

"Assistant Director Hacker, how nice to hear from you."

"Oh please, Dr. Saroyan, call me Andrew. We are counterparts, as it were."

"Okay," Cam grimace-smiles, grateful he can't see. "Then you must call me Cam."

"Cam! Great! Okay."

"So… what can I do for you, Andrew?"

"Ah yes, well you see I had been reliably informed by my Agent Booth that he was attending a forensics work-shopping event with your good selves, but I have just had the immeasurable pleasure of Miss Montenegro's company at the Royal Diner and she didn't seem to know anything about it."

"Oh."

"Can you explain?"

"Yes, well… uh… the uh… the week is primarily for those scientists directly… um… directly assisting law enforcement and their… their partners," Cam tells him, dropping her head into her hand. _So lame._

"And are there many of those at the Jeffersonian?"

"Um… no, no - not at the Jeffersonian but, uh… it's a national thing and there are many others who… do the same thing as Booth and Brennan."

"I was led to believe they were something of a rarity," Andrew protests. "Something of a unique entity. Am I to understand that I am not the only one benefiting from such an arrangement?" He is being playful, Cam can tell, but nevertheless she feels it is best to reassure him.

"I'm sure Booth and Brennan lead the way," she gushes. "Many others have since followed in their footsteps, however." _Where am I getting this crap?_

"Indeed," Hacker chuckles. "Well, good. That's all cleared up then."

Cam blows out a quiet breath of relief. "I'm glad. They'll be back at the weekend."

"Good, good. And you – any plans for the weekend?"

Cam's eyes widen. "Um… possibly."

"I was just thinking, like I said, we are counterparts, though one of us definitely has the monopoly on good looks." He chuckles and Cam winces. "Perhaps you'd like to get a drink sometime?"

"Um… I'm very flattered, Andrew, but I'm actually seeing someone right now."

"Oh, you are?"

"Yes." There is a long silence that is not the least bit comfortable. Cam feels the desperate need to fill it. "He's a gynecologist," she blurts, slapping a hand to her forehead. _What am I thinking?_

Andrew chuckles. "Okay… well, not yours I hope? That might be awkward?"

"Um yes… no, not mine." _What?_ "That um… would be awkward, yes."

Andrew sighs. "A little like this conversation. So I shall leave you to your work. Thank you very much for your time, Dr. Saroyan. I know you must be busy."

"Not at all," she assures him.

"Good-bye."

She places the phone down and collapses, her forehead to the desk in front of her. One thing is now clear. Booth and Brennan owe her. BIG time.

_TBC…_


	13. My Love For You Will Still Be Strong

**_~o~ Chapter Thirteen - My Love For You Will Still Be Strong ~o~_**

Brennan doesn't remove her new necklace for the rest of their stay. She brought a small selection of jewellery with her because for some irrational reason she cannot explain, she never feels completely dressed without her chunky beads and dangly earrings. They currently lie forgotten on top of the dresser in their bedroom, however. Her gift from Booth takes precedence.

Booth likes that she doesn't take it off. She is wearing it the morning after he gave it to her, even as they shower. It clings to the moisture at her throat as he laves her skin with his tongue, sucking away sweet water and allowing the bright little beads to click softly against his teeth.

They tumble from the bathroom to their bed and she rises above him, pinning him between her thighs, her face getting the fierce, sexy look it does sometimes when she's like this. The Aztec colors of her necklace combine with her expression to turn her into some kind of warrior woman in the soft, early-morning light and he almost chuckles at what she'd say if he called her Xena (assuming she'd know who that was), before she twists her hips and he forgets what he was thinking altogether.

~o~

Eventually they drag themselves from bed, get dressed and head out to enjoy their last full day on the island before they leave for home. Home, where work and friends and family and real life await. Booth chides himself as they wander along the beach. This is as real as life gets.

They eat a lunch at their favorite restaurant. Bones chooses freshly caught fish with a suspicious-looking, leafy side order. On closer inspection he sees that there's orange in it. Fruit, he informs his highly amused companion, has no business being in a salad.

They are waiting for the bill when he realizes his partner is somewhere other than at their table. She is gazing out toward the ocean, slim fingers toying with the charm at her throat.

"Earth to Bones."

"I'm sorry?"

She blinks at him and he chuckles. "What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

She smiles slowly. "I am looking forward to going home-"

He feigns hurt. "I'm just that boring, huh, Bones?"

She rolls her eyes. "If you'd let me finish I was going to say I am looking forward to going home, and yet I still feel the pull to stay."

He reaches across the table to squeeze her hand. "That's the sign of a good vacation, Bones."

She smiles. "I guess it is."

"And hey, we've got today and tonight, it ain't over 'til it's over, baby!"

She chuckles, low and throaty, and he groans. "Bones you have no idea what that laugh of yours does to me."

She flicks an eyebrow up. "Yes I do."

He remains wide-eyed and slightly dazed as he pays for lunch. Outside the restaurant she takes his hand and they follow the winding path back toward the beach, passing little shops and gift stalls as they go.

"How should we spend our last evening?" she asks, stopping to re-tie her sandal where the little strips of leather that wrap around her slender ankles are coming loose.

Booth reaches out to steady her as she lifts her foot. "I thought we could grab some dinner, do a little dancing and then watch the sunset at the beach – we didn't do that yet."

Bones straightens and looks him in the eye. "That sounds like a romantic-vacation cliché come true."

His face and shoulders fall at once. "Bones!"

She smirks. "No, Booth. I am eager to experience as many of those as possible."

He shakes his head and chuckles, pulling her into him so that he can wrap his arms around her. "Don't ever change, OK, Bones?" he murmurs against her hair.

She squeezes him in her arms and nods, wondering if he realizes how much his words mean to her; confirmation that he loves her for who she is, that he appreciates the things about her that she knows set her apart from others.

"And hey," he says, pulling away to take her hand again. "They're clichés for a reason."

Brennan tugs on his hand and they resume their walk, the sun their constant companion as it lays a warm hand on their shoulders. She doesn't know how she is going to leave this place and she squeezes Booth's hand as she realizes they only have twenty-four hours left here together.

Booth will never get tired of holding her hand. He's approaching forty, yet her fingers knot through his and he could be back in fifth grade, when holding hands with Stephanie Sanders was as hot as it got. She makes him feel young and happy – alive. She makes him feel things he never thought possible.

When she turns to take the path toward their hut, Booth tugs her instead along the path that runs to the jetty.

"Where are we going?" she asks, with a frown, but nevertheless allows him to lead the way across the sandy planks.

"I got one more vacation cliché for you, Bones," he tells her, pressing a kiss to her hair as they stop beside a blue and white boat, bobbing in the shallow water.

Brennan stares at the inaccurately drawn yet still recognizable picture of a dolphin on the side of it. She is gripped by a sudden wave of delight so strong it makes her a little breathless. "We're not going to-"

Booth nods. "Yeah."

"-swim with them?"

"If you want to," he tells her, watching her carefully for her reaction.

She turns back to the boat, the skipper of which is now gesturing them aboard. "Very much," she murmurs, reaching for the man's weather-worn hand without a second of hesitation.

~o~

Around four hours later, Booth is wondering if it's possible his heart can pound right out of his chest because it's so full of love for someone.

Bones is literally bouncing up the beach ahead of him, wringing her hands in front of her in delight and breaking off a detailed retelling of their adventures out on the ocean (for which he was present the entire time) only to fling her arms around his neck and kiss him enthusiastically when the urge apparently gets too great not to. He's gotta say, this is probably his favorite part of the whole thing.

"The most incredible experience," she tells him, her hands in his hair. "Thank you."

He has to admit it was neat. The dolphins were strong, powerful creatures but playful and intelligent; not unlike the woman in his arms right now. He'd been surprised at just how friendly they were and at how they felt, their skin smooth and sun-warmed beneath the surface of the cool ocean. Most of all he'd been totally captivated by his partner as she'd swum with these animals. Her smile didn't leave her face the whole time.

"You're welcome," he tells her, hugging her close. "Seeing what a kick you got out of it is all the thanks I need."

"I can't wait to tell Parker all about it," she tells him, moving away to take his hand again. He'd been laughing but that dies in his throat at the lump she's put there.

He tugs her back against him and she laughs, "You really are getting mushy." When he looks at her in surprise she falters. "Is that the correct term?"

His shoulders shake with mirth. "Yeah, Bones. I'm mushy as all hell – and you have no-one to blame but you."

"Myself," she corrects. "No-one to blame but 'yourself.'"

"Whatever, genius," he chuckles, pressing a hand to her back. "Let's get back and wash this sea-water off."

~o~

When they get inside the biggest fruit basket Brennan has ever seen is dwarfing the coffee table in their living area.

"Would you look at the size of that thing?" Booth gapes.

"It must be complimentary," Brennan decides, reaching past passion fruit and guava to tug a small card free. "It is quite sizeable, I agree."

"_Quite sizeable?_ We couldn't fit this baby in the Sequoia."

Brennan chuckles and indicates the card. "Mr and Mrs Brennan," she reads, wondering for a moment the use of her name, untilshe remembers she handled the bookings. "We hope you have enjoyed your stay. Please accept this with our compliments." She turns to him with a frown. "How are two people possibly expected to eat this in one day?" she asks. "Surely it makes more sense to supply it at the start of the week."

Booth nods and plucks a mango from the display, choosing to ignore the fact that she hasn't mentioned the whole 'Mr & Mrs' part of the message. He bounces the heavy fruit off his bicep before catching it back in his hand, smirking as his partner watches this with undisguised interest. "See something you like, there, Bones?"

The mango hits the floor with a thud and she has his t-shirt off before he can blink. He's two steps from the wall and she slams him against it, crushing her mouth to his and sliding her hands straight down the back of his shorts to grip his ass.

"Guess that's a yes," he breathes when she releases his mouth and sinks to her knees. "Oh God, baby…"

~o~

Before all the heat is gone from the day, the partners pay a visit to Camp Sexy for one last time and Booth indulges one last romantic-getaway cliché as he tackles his girl as she walks along the edge of the water, rolling her into the surf. She gasps and makes a feeble protest about their clothes before giggling and pinning him to the sand, kissing him as the Pacific bursts past his shoulders.

Later they eat a last evening meal at their restaurant and dance as planned, pressed together tightly on the dark little floor, barely moving and completely unaware of anyone else around them. They don't say it, but can both feel they share a heavy heart at the thought of this coming to an end.

As the sunlight dwindles beyond the candle-lit terrace outside, Booth tugs his partner from the restaurant and they make the short walk down to the beach. They sit close together in the dunes watching the sun sink lower in the sky.

"I'm going to miss this place," he admits.

"Me too," Brennan agrees softly. "Come down to the ocean with me."

She stands and slips off her sandals, padding barefoot away from him, a vision in white cotton and clinging sand, half-silhouetted against the last of the burnt-amber sunlight.

As if she could go anywhere he wouldn't follow, he thinks, like a giant sap, before setting off after her, catching her free hand in his as they reach the water.

Brennan turns to press her back against his front and smiles when he loops his arms about her waist.

"It's been one hell of a week, Bones," he murmurs against her hair.

She nods. "Yes. A week."

Then she turns in his arms and looks up at him. "Perhaps," she says, "in light of the success of this venture-"

"Venture?" he chuckles.

She smiles. "Yes. Perhaps… do you remember, when I offered you day-by-day?"

He swallows. "Yeah, Bones."

"Perhaps we should re-evaluate that. Maybe week-by-week would now be more appropriate."

She watches the ghost of a smile play at his lips before he tilts his head. "Meh…"

Her eyes widen as she thumps his shoulder with her fist. "Booth!"

~o~

All too soon it is their final morning on the island and they wake and pack up clothes, belongings and the small gifts they have bought for friends and family.

Brennan stands on their terrace, one hand on the beads at her neck as she inhales the ginger-scented air and watches the ocean lapping at the shore beyond the sands of Booth's 'Camp Sexy.' She smiles as she hears him struggling with the luggage in the main room and turns to help.

She is surprised to feel a lump in her throat as she helps him zip up his suitcase. She'll miss this place. She'll miss being alone with him – oh, she knows they will be together when they return home but this experience has been unique. She hasn't shared her personal space with someone for so long. To be isolated together from everyone and everything they know could have been scary, but it has been wonderful. She straightens as he finally pronounces the case closed, kicking it once for good measure for being so tricky. She smiles, watching him standing triumphant over it with his hands on his hips.

"All set, Bones," he says, with just a tinge of regret.

"Move in with me," she blurts in reply. "When we get home."

"Whoa! Wow." His eyes widen and he scratches the stubble he has propagated beneath his chin. "What's brought this on?"

"Does that mean no?"

"No, Bones, it doesn't mean no. I just – you took me by surprise, I guess. I always figured you liked your own space."

She looks down. "I do. But – I prefer my space with you in it. Does that make sense?"

A brilliant smile breaks across his face. "Aw, Bones, it makes perfect sense – I'd love to move in with you."

"You would?"

He laughs and sweeps her up in a hug, her feet leaving the floor. "Absolutely."

"I'm not surprised," she tells him, when he releases her. "I have a large, beautiful apartment and am quite stimulating company."

Booth chuckles at the twinkle in her eyes. "When did you get to be such a tease?"

"I learned from the best," she informs him, before her smile fades. "I'm very glad you'd like to, Booth."

"There's no place I'd rather be," he assures her. "Why don't we do it about three months from now?"

Her face falls. "Why three months?"

"My lease is up then – and it'll give us time to get used to the idea and to get Parker used to the idea. He's gonna have to adjust to us being together without springing a new place on him as well, you know?"

She nods. "I guess that makes sense."

"I can't wait, though," he tells her, drawing her close. "I couldn't be happier. God, Bones, you make me so happy." He kisses her, quick and hard. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she tells him. "Are we going to see Parker as soon as we get back?"

"Yup. If that's OK?"

"And then our friends," she murmurs.

"And then our friends," he agrees. "No more secrets."

~o~

The journey home is long and not straightforward. By the time they are on the last leg of it – the flight to Dulles – the partners are exhausted. They sleep as they fly, chasing the night into early morning, D.C. time.

Brennan dreams. Booth is grinning at her in the sunlight and he has a spear – the reason for this she's not quite sure. But then she is diving beneath a heavy blue sea, chasing the tail of a dolphin down where the water is cool and inky-black, amid darting shoals of little fish that flit, silver-quick around her. She loses sight of the dolphin behind an out-cropping of jagged rock and when she swims closer to investigate she is startled by a gigantic shark, rising out of the depths, its jaws an ugly maw, open to strike.

She startles awake gripping the arm-rests of her first class window seat and pants a little as reality replaces the dream. She doesn't have to be a fan of psychology to piece together what the dream might mean. The dolphin is her, the shark her fears coming to bite her. Capable Booth is ready on the shore with his spear, standing by to protect her. If she gave any credence to the idea of dream interpretation, that is. Which, of course, she doesn't.

She turns in her seat and watches him sleep beside her, his forehead smooth in slumber, dark lashes against tanned skin. There's no-one in the world, she knows, that would ever have been able to convince her that being with them was worth the struggle of facing and conquering her fears of rejection, of not being good enough.

No-one, that is, but him.

_To Be Concluded…_

_

* * *

_

_A/N: The plan was to update this one on a daily basis, to coincide with the posting of the final chapter at Live Journal. However, RL has interfered and we have been ill and crazy busy, so it could take us a couple of days to get there. Please, no lynch mobs *g* (mumrulz, we're looking at you)  
_


	14. Only the Beginning of What I Want

_A/N: We're so sorry for the delay - here is the long awaited final chap... and we do mean long, it's kinda epic ;)_

* * *

_**~o~ Only the Beginning of What I Want to Feel Forever ~o~**_

Pulling up outside Rebecca's house, Booth shifts his much-missed SUV into park and relaxes back against the seat. He reaches across and takes Brennan's hand. "You okay, Bones?"

She rubs her thumb along his. "Fine, Booth. Are you ready?"

"Almost." He gives her one of his best smiles, then leans across, brushing her cheek and pulling her lips to his. One lingering, full-of-promise-and-love kiss later, he opens his eyes. "Now... I'm ready."

"Me too. Let's go tell your son everything." She smiles and reaches for the door handle.

"Well, not... everything."

She just winks and climbs from the truck.

"Bones!" he calls after her before quickly following her up the sidewalk.

~o~

He knocks on the door and feels her grab and squeeze his hand quickly, dropping it as the door rattles open and a blur of brown hair and cut-off shorts springs into Booth's arms.

"Dad!"

"Hey! I missed you, Bub!"

"I missed you, too! Even though it's only been a week. But it just seemed longer knowing you were away. Where'd you go again?"

Booth scratched his cheek and glanced at Brennan, who simply shrugged and smiled. "Well, Parks... that's what we came to talk to you about - Bones and I. We can't wait to tell you about our trip."

"Cool! Let's go! BYE, MOM!" he yells over his shoulder as he bounds down the steps toward the truck.

Almost immediately, Rebecca steps into the doorway, dish towel in hand, a knowing smile spreading across her face as she takes in her ex and his partner. "Seeley. Dr. Brennan. You guys look... well-sunned and rested. Nice trip?" She raises an eyebrow as the two partners exchange a glance.

Brennan speaks up. "I'll just go help Parker get buckled in. Nice to see you, Rebecca."

Booth clears his throat and points with his thumb in the direction of his retreating partner. "Thanks for letting us have him for a couple hours, Bec. I know it's not my weekend-"

"Us?"

He laughs. "You don't miss a thing, do you?"

"Well, if you're trying to hide something, Seeley, you might start with the permanently plastered smile on your face. I don't think I've ever seen you so openly happy."

"I am happy. And I'm... _we're_... not hiding anything. Bones and I... well, I love her. And the damndest thing... she loves me back. We're going to try to make this work."

Rebecca blinks and smiles. "Good for you, Seeley. Good for you both."

"Thank you. I-"

"Dad!" he hears Parker call from the lowered window of the car.

Laughing, he finishes, "I guess I'm being paged. We'll have him back in a couple hours - just getting some ice cream."

"Seeley, I'm happy for you." She lays her hand on his arm. "You deserve to be happy."

He smiles and nods and makes his way down the porch steps.

"Oh Seeley! Before I forget..."

"Yeah?"

"Some guy from the Army called here looking for you the other day." At his perplexed look, she continues, "I didn't really know what to tell him. And I didn't mention anything to Parker."

Booth's hand grips the back of his neck then shoves in his pocket for his keys. "Okay thanks, Rebecca. I'll take care of it." And with a wave, he's back to his truck, where his partner's smile and his boys chatter are the only things that matter.

~o~

"So Mom was right."

Booth couldn't hide his quick glance and uh-oh look to Brennan. "About what, bud?"

"I asked her a long time ago if Bones was your girlfriend and she said, 'No, but give it time.' So now it's time?"

"Yeah, Park, it's time." Booth reaches beside him and squeezes Brennan's hand. "And you're okay with this?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" he responds before quickly tracking a drip of Rocky Road down the side of his waffle cone.

Booth nods and puts his arm around Brennan along the back of the park bench they are all three occupying. He smiles and places a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"So, Parker..." Brennan begins. "I told your Dad I couldn't wait until we got home so I could tell you all about the _Stenella longirostris_ we saw."

Parker just laughs and scrunches up his nose at the big words. "What's that?"

"Hawaiian Spinner dolphins."

"Cool!" His eyes as round as saucers.

"They were very cool. Booth arranged for us to be able to swim with them. Did you know that a possible reason for their spinning acrobatics is to attract a mate?"

"HA! No! What else?"

As Bones continues to share her vast knowledge concerning the dolphin and porpoise species, Parker leans into his father's side and whispers, "I'm glad you're home, Dad. You and Bones."

"Us too, Parker." Booth replies, ruffling his son's hair, listening and laughing.

~o~

When they've finally dropped Parker back at Rebecca's the shadows are lengthening into late-afternoon and the urge to go home and wash off their journey and unpack is strong. They'd caught a cab direct from the airport to Brennan's apartment to pick up the SUV and come to see Parker right away, and while Booth loved that she'd drop everything like that for his son, he was way past the point of exhaustion and needing to freshen up before they saw anyone else. With this in mind he suggests they've done enough truth-spilling for the day, but Bones is determined to at least tell their close friends. Then she does that thing she doesn't even know she does, that slight pout, and he's pointing the truck towards the Jeffersonian before he knows it.

They arrive still tired, yet buoyed by Parker's reaction to their news, exchanging knowing smiles as they check in with security and make their way down the long hallway leading to the lab. Booth's hand drifts from the spot on her back to which these halls are accustomed, further around to cup her hip and pull her closer in to his side. He can't help but whisper his love quietly in her ear.

Before he knows what's happening, Brennan has pulled him through the door leading to the stairwell and pressed him into the concrete wall, her hands capturing his face and bringing him close. His arms instinctively wrap around her and begin stroking her back as he leans closer, aiming for her soft lips, reading her intentions.

But she pulls back, her lips upturned in a smile, one brow raised. "Does this seem familiar?"

His grip tightens, pulling her hips to his, and with an answering smile, "Slightly." He nuzzles her nose. "Seems like ages ago though."

She can finally wait no longer and draws him into a sweet kiss, full of soft lips and just the tip of tongues, relishing the moment... the last before sharing their secret with the world. Regardless, she can't help but appreciate that they have forever to be like this.

As soon as they break apart, Booth tilts her chin, looking her straight in the eye, with no hesitation. "I love you. I can't wait to let everyone know that."

She replies, with a knowing smile and a sparkle in her eye as she takes his hand and pulls him back towards the door. "Me too."

When they are greeted by a still, quiet and mostly empty lab, it's something of a disappointment. Footsteps are heading their way though, and Booth watches as Cam strides past them, her nose in a manila folder. She almost walks right on by, until Bones calls her name.

Brennan is pleased that it's Cam, because Cam is someone who doesn't know about them yet, and the prospect of telling her and witnessing her happy reaction is a pleasing one.

Booth, in truth, feels a little sick, because he's suddenly sure that he should have told Cam himself by now. Hadn't she been the one to help him at Sweets' wedding? Wasn't she one of his oldest friends? He wished all the squints were here and Bones could just tell Angela it was okay to let the raccoon out the box, or whatever, and her friend's patented over-enthusiasm could do the rest for them. But no; it has to be Cam.

He casts about for someone, anyone to back them up, but the place is still weirdly deserted. Cam pivots on one shiny, black heel, her eyebrows raised in surprise, and walks across to them.

"Booth, Dr. Brennan – you're back." She looks between them a moment. "And you're really, _really_ tan. Did I miss the weather report where West Virginia got a heatwave?"

Booth glances at his partner and swallows, "Uh… Cam-"

"I apologize for my deception, Cam," Brennan cuts in. "Booth and I did not attend a partners' retreat in West Virginia."

Cam continues to look between the two of them and Booth steels himself for the moment the penny will drop.

"In fact," Bones says, as she turns to him with a smile so tentative and cute that he forgets to be nervous for a second, "we were in Hawaii."

"Hawaii," Cam says, her voice as strangely flat as the lab is quiet.

"Yes," Brennan tells her, and reaches for her partner's hand. "Together."

Booth waits for the explosion, and he's fifty-fifty on whether it'll be one of indignation or joy. But it never comes. At some point he has screwed his eyes tight shut like a girl, and now he pops one open to find Cam smiling serenely.

"That's great," she says, all calm like Bones just told her she won some fancy bone award or something. She keeps smiling the freaky, Valium smile and points to the ookey room. "Gotta go… cut up a dead guy. Welcome home, you guys." And she's gone.

Booth blinks. "What just happened?"

Brennan turns to him with a frown. "I have to admit, I expected a more dramatic reaction."

Booth plants his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowing. "Five years they've been poking and prodding and dropping their little hints," he complains. "Five years of pushing us together, and that's her reaction? 'Well done.'?"

"She didn't say-"

"Basically she did, okay, Bones?"

"There's Hodgins!" his partner interrupts, hurrying to dig in her pocket for her ID card, and rushing to meet their friend as he climbs up the steps on the other side of the platform.

"Yeah," Booth mutters, trailing after her, "and what are the odds Angela hasn't told him already?"

"Hodgins!" Brennan calls. "We're home!"

"Hey," Hodgins says, looking up from a box full of microscope slides, carefully slotted in side-by-side. "Good retreat?" He smiles warmly. "Team-build much?"

"Angela didn't tell you?" Brennan asks him, disbelieving.

"Tell me what?"

"Booth and I weren't at a retreat we were-"

She is cut off by her partner, who appears to lose his patience at this point. "Look," he says, stepping a little in front of her and counting off on his fingers, "No retreat, on vacation, sun, sea, sand, yadda yadda, Bones and I are a couple."

Hodgins' eyes narrow. "You don't say."

Booth nods. "Just did."

"Dammit!" the other man says, pointing at them with both hands. "I _knew_ she was keeping something from me." And then he walks away, just like Cam.

Bones turns to him. "I don't-"

"Yeah." Booth scowls. "I don't know what it means either."

~o~

In the ookey-room, Hodgins finds Cam and Angela huddled together, barely suppressing their laughter behind a pair of files. On closer inspection his wife has her sleeve jammed in her mouth.

Angela lets out a muffled cry as he busts through the doors and presses his hands to his face. "Oh man, that was hard – have you guys got any idea how close I came to cracking up? Dr. B looked so…" He mimed a pout. "And Booth was all, 'There was sun and sea and sand and…'" He mimics his friend, counting off on his fingers.

"Stop!" Cam pleads, clutching her stomach. "You did great, Hodgins." She turns to Angela, who is only standing due to the support of the desk behind her, her shoulders still shaking. "It's your turn," Cam tells her, with some doubt. "You okay?"

Angela nods and takes deep breaths, then she stands straight and pulls an imaginary cord in front of her, instantly appearing serene and unaffected. It lasts all of two seconds.

"Oh God," she moans, as she laughs again, "I don't think I'll be able to keep a straight face."

"You have to say _one_ thing!" Hodgins protests.

"You can do it," Cam assures her, pushing her through the door, then fends off her entomologist as he battles her for the best vantage point from which to peer around it.

Angela finds the partners in the long corridor that runs behind the platform, which suits her just fine.

"Sweetie," she calls, "you're back!" They have decided she must appear at least a little enthusiastic or it will be too suspicious given her history of what Hodgins had carefully termed 'interest' in the partners' love lives.

"Angela!" Brennan calls, her face lighting up so sweetly Angela immediately feels guilty for what she is about to do. She squeezes her friend into a hug and pats her back. She is overwhelmed by how happy Brennan looks, it brings a lump to her throat and she pulls away, concerned she won't be able to hold it together.

"I can't stop," she tells her immediately crestfallen friend. "I have a meeting in Archeology – but meet me at the Founding Fathers later, okay, both of you? I want to know all about it."

Brennan nods, looking like she might cry and Angela reminds herself forcefully that it'll be worth it to see her face light up later. "Both of you!" she reiterates, before turning the corner and collapsing against the wall in relief.

Booth watches Angela leave with his brow set in a deep frown. Something is most definitely up. He slides suspicious eyes to his partner, but she looks so crushed he decides the investigation can wait until later. If Angela is still acting weird tonight, he'll find out why.

"Aw, Bones, don't look so sad," he tells her, sliding an arm around her shoulders and tucking her into his side. "I guess we're old news."

"I'm not sad," she immediately asserts.

"Okay."

"I'm – I'm not! Booth-"

"I'm a little disappointed," he confesses, watching as she meets his eyes finally.

She leans into him and hums. "Maybe a little."

"Come on," he decides, squeezing her then letting go. "Let's get out of here. We need to freshen up if we're meeting Angela tonight."

~o~

Bones' place is on the way from the Jeffersonian, so Booth drops her off with a promise to quickly unload his things and change and then meet back up with her.

As he enters his apartment, he can't keep his thoughts from drifting to packing boxes and furniture dollies, already creating a mental to-do list and counting down the days until he and Bones are living together. It feels almost crazy that they've finally made it to this point. He tosses the mail on the kitchen counter as he passes through, leaving his suitcase near the laundry room, only removing his toiletry bag to carry it to the bathroom.

After a quick shower and redress, he drops his socks and shoes beside the couch and steps into the kitchen to grab a drink, maybe a snack. A scan of his refrigerator doesn't end well. After being away for a week, subsequent to several days of non-stop preparations - well, put it this way, the contents of his fridge are a lot more green than usual, and not in the good way. He pops open a can of soda, telling his stomach to cool it until they get to the bar. Spotting the mail on the counter, he scoops it up and heads to the couch.

"Bill, bill, junk, bill..." he murmurs, flipping through the rather impressive week's worth of correspondence.

A white envelope with an official looking seal catches his eye, his mouth setting in a firm line as he reads the return address to himself. Secretary of Defense.

This can't possibly bode well.

He remembers Rebecca's mention of a phone call as he slips his finger along the sealed edge and opens the letter. Reading the typed request, liberally sprinkled with words like "duty"and "honor" along with well-chosen phrases like "saving lives" and "your country needs you", only sets a frown to Booth's lips and a furrow to his brow.

Not now. Not when... his son... his Bones... his job... his life.

Just. Not now.

He tucks the letter back in the envelope and quickly dons his (brightly striped) socks and shoes. Standing and picking up his jacket, he looks down at the letter on the table. He drops his coat and swipes the letter, crossing to his bookshelf and tucking it between a few copies of Bones' novels.

"Forget it for now, Seel," he whispers to himself, running his hand through his hair and grabbing his jacket and keys. Bones will be wondering what's taking him so long.

~o~

Booth swings the SUV into a parking space about half a block from the bar, kills the ignition and follows Bones' lead from the vehicle, unable to make it to her side before she's completely stepped out and waiting for him on the sidewalk. He smiles at her, thinking how some things will never change, and takes her hand.

Walking down the sidewalk in _their_ town, the cool evening air surrounding them as they pass under the small elms growing out of evenly spaced planters, he thinks how refreshing it is to finally be _out_ with their news. To finally be just another couple in love walking hand-in-hand along a busy street. To no longer have anything to hide - from each other and from the world.

Just before reaching the doorway, he tugs her hand lightly and pulls her with him towards the bus stop outside the bar.

"Booth?"

"Hey. It's fine. I just..." The light from the overhead street lamp illuminates her beautiful features. This woman he loves. Who loves him back. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are tonight?" He brushes her hair behind her ear before pulling her close and kissing her cheek softly, whispering, "Every night. Every day."

Her hands rest lightly on his biceps, feeling the soft leather of his favorite jacket as she ducks her head and leans into him.

He tilts her chin. "I love you, Bones. We're finally doing this. For years now, you've filled my life with joy and excitement and your own special brand of irritation..." He laughs as she smacks his shoulder, then lifts his hand to her cheek, his features sobering as he strokes her porcelain skin. "But over the past month, you've made me the happiest man alive. One of our best friends is in there and she's happy for us. They all are - even if their less-than-stellar reactions weren't exactly what we expected. This is still right. The rightest thing ever. You know that, right?"

She lifts her hand to his cheek, mirroring his caress, smiling softly. "I know, Booth." She takes a deep breath. "I think we've more than proven that to one another. And it's more than I ever would have expected... no matter how many times over the past years Angela tried to convince me to ride your train." He can't contain his guffaw, as she winks and smiles a lecherous smile that sends waves of warmth to settle in his belly.

She pulls him into a tight hug and he smooths his hands across her back. When they pull apart and head towards the entrance, she wraps her arm around his waist and surprises him by asking, "They were never guy hugs were they, Booth?"

He pulls the door open, ushering her through with a grin. "No, Bones. No, they weren't."

~o~

Angela Montenegro (secretly -Hodgins) is growing seriously impatient by the time she spots the partners approaching the bar down the lamp-lit sidewalk. She squeezes Cam's arm and points through the window. Cam turns to Hodgins and he jogs to the far corner of the bar to deliver the message that their friends have finally arrived. There is a murmur of excitement from the back and Angela holds a finger to her lips as she and Cam tuck themselves behind a group of men apparently celebrating a colleague's promotion at the nearest table, hoping to remain hidden for as long as possible.

Booth and Brennan walk into the bar and Angela watches them closely, the corner of her mouth lifting in delight as they look about the place and can't find a familiar face anywhere. She feels a momentary stab of guilt at the look of disappointment on Brennan's face before watching with amusement as Cam carefully places two fingers to her lips and lets out a whistle any sports fan would be proud of. She and Cam surge forward on the crowd of their friends and colleagues that suddenly flood from the back of the bar and the looks of shock on Booth and Brennan's faces are utterly priceless.

"Surprise!" Angela cries, flinging her arms around Brennan's neck.

"Oh my God!" Brennan breathes, watching as anyone she can think of that she knows and cares about in D.C. fills the space around her and Booth. There's Cam and Angela and Hodgins and Sweets, but also all her interns and Michelle and even her father, who pushes through the throng to wrap her in a hug.

Daisy is carrying a large cake which gets slid on to the bar in front of them, emblazoned with the words, 'About Damn Time' in red frosting. Beside her, Booth is laughing and she leans into him, unable to take in everything that is happening. Apparently their friends not only care that they are together, but knew all along.

"You really think we wouldn't catch on?" Cam asks Booth, her eyes shining.

"Did Angela tell you?" Brennan asks, but Cam shakes her head.

"No need. You two are just that obvious."

Booth sighs and shakes his head with a grin and tugs Brennan into him, kissing her soundly to a rousing cheer from the assembled crowd.

Brennan pulls away, blushing, from his warm lips and indicates the cake. "Do we have a knife?"

~o~

An hour has passed and the crowd has thinned out, those that remain breaking into little groups. The usual suspects are gathered around Booth and Brennan.

"You really had no idea we all knew?" Cam is shaking her head, a fond smile for her friends' cluelessness.

"Obviously we knew Angela and Sweets knew," Brennan counters, and hearing her refer to them as 'we' all the time isn't weird at all, oh no. "But we didn't expect…" she looks around her at the brightly decorated bar, the nearly-demolished cake, the smiling faces of their friends. "This."

"Hang on," Hodgins cuts in. "No clue at all?"

Brennan frowns. "No, why?"

"Dammit!" he exclaims, turning on Angela with a playful glare. "Do you have any idea how much that thing _cost_?"

Angela giggles. "Oops."

Booth is confused. "What thing?"

Cam groans and lays a hand on Hodgins' shoulder. "The fruit!"

Sweets laughs out loud. "Oh man, the fruit!"

Booth gapes. "That was you? We thought it was from the resort!"

Angela points at Cam. "I _told_ you I should have written the card."

"I was going for subtle," Cam complains. "I didn't think putting, 'You can eat it off each other' was quite the way to achieve that."

Everyone chuckles as Angela pouts. "Better than, 'With compliments.'"

Brennan nods. "Naturally we assumed-"

Cam sighs. "Naturally."

Brennan throws a smirk Booth's way. "The mangoes were good." Before he can react further than to drop his jaw in astonishment, she turns to Hodgins. "I will be quite happy to reimburse you."

Booth pulls a face. "Bones!"

Hodgins shakes his head with a smile, pulling Angela to him with an arm about her shoulders, stunning her into a yelp at his bold move. "It's no trouble, Dr. B, just treat Angela and I to the same on our honeymoo-oo-oon…_ohhhh_." He clenches his teeth and screws his eyes shut as the easy laughter in the group dies.

Booth is the first to recover. "You guys got _married_?"

Cam sits up a little straighter in her chair. "Oh, my God!"

Angela rolls her eyes and waves a hand at her husband. "Go ahead."

"Yeah," he laughs. "We did."

"Angela!" Brennan exclaims, crushing her friend in a hug. "When?"

"The night we talked before you and Booth headed off," Angela tells her with a grin. "I guess you guys inspired us."

"Look at that, huh?" Booth beams. "I always said we were an inspiration, Bones." He loops an arm around her shoulders, a little stunned at how good it feels to be free to do that in front of everyone, especially when his partner turns her body into his and slides an arm around his waist, pressing a chuckle into his neck.

Sweets turns from the partners' Public Display of Affection to address Angela. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"We wanted to wait for everyone to be together," Angela explains, with a soft smile. "Especially you, sweetie," she tells Brennan.

Cam claps her hands. "This calls for a double celebration!"

"Yes," Brennan agrees, "champagne. On us." She turns for the bar.

"Us," Hodgins chuckles. "This is going to take some getting used to."

Booth grins. "Nah, give it a week – most natural thing in the world." He watches his partner's retreating form with undisguised interest and Angela chuckles.

"And I thought you two were hot when all that sexual tension was unresolved," she says, with a wicked smirk. "Hoo-boy!"

Booth sighs, but with a smile. "Cut it out, Angela."

"Don't think you and I don't need to have a talk, by the way," Cam tells him suddenly, poking him in the chest with one finger.

"Ow! What – why?"

She mimics, "I'm going on a forensic training course thingy with my squints, Assistant Director Hacker, why don't you ring Cam if you bump into one of them at the Diner and wonder why the hell I'm still AWOL."

Booth winces. "Ooh."

"Yeah, _ooh_." Cam tries to keep her face stern but it doesn't last long. "You owe me, big time."

"Aw, Cam, come on," he tries, "what are friends for, right? You know I'd do the same for you."

Cam nods, a grin forming. "Uh-huh? The guy asked me on a _date_. You willing to go that far?"

"Ouch," Booth says.

"Hmm."

"You take payment in chocolate?" he tries.

She pretends to mull it over. "I prefer a check."

Sweets clears his throat. "Uh, Agent Booth?"

Booth's smile dies at the serious look on the kid's face. "Really?" he asks. "We gonna do this now?"

Sweets shakes his head, holding up his hands. "I just wanted to let you know that it is my professional opinion that this relationship will have no impact on your partnership – on the contrary, I can only see it making you stronger."

Booth nods tightly, uncomfortable with discussing this in public, yet grateful for the therapist's assessment. "And Hacker?"

Sweets nods. "Leave him to me."

Booth can't help but laugh at the kid's show of bravado but he cuffs the younger man in the shoulder regardless. "Thanks, Sweets."

"Champagne!" Brennan exclaims, just in time to cover the furious blush creeping across the psychologist's face. She has returned from the bar with two bottles, trailed by a young man with a tray of glasses, which he places carefully on the table they are seated around.

"And it's the good stuff," Hodgins praises.

"Only the best… for the best," Brennan agrees, with a tentative smile.

Booth leans close to murmur in her ear. "How'd you even know that's the best stuff?"

She leans just as close. "I didn't. I asked."

He chuckles, and presses a kiss to her hair. He adores this woman. Angela coos and he shoots her a playful glare, to the amusement of everyone there.

"Hey, it's your favorite part of the evening," he tells Bones fondly, pressing a hand to her back as she leans over to fill the last of their glasses. "Got one of your famous, anthropologically-significant toasts for us?"

She straightens with a glass of her own and looks around at their friends, then holds it up and slides her gaze to his. "To love," she decides, to the flip of his stomach.

"To love," their friends repeat and Brennan sips at the pleasantly dry champagne, letting it fizz happily on her tongue as Booth leans close again, murmuring sweet things in her ear about just who he loves best of all.

~o~

A little later and the party is back in full swing. All around Booth his friends are drinking and laughing and generally reveling in the happy occasion, yet he finds himself subjected to that most dreaded of things, the father-son talk – and the absurdity of receiving such a thing from Max Keenan, of all people, is not lost on him.

"Are we seriously gonna do this? The old fatherly advice?"

Max's blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. "Just humor me, son. I never got to do this when Temperance was a teenager."

Booth chuckles. "If you put it like that…" But he can tell he and Max are thinking the same thing in that instant – that if he'd been there for her, like a father should be, as she struggled through those years after he and her mother abandoned her, then she would have had his protection when life was hard, and she would never have been subjected to the cruelty of the world and the people in it in the way she had.

Max settles a strong hand on Booth's shoulder and, even though both men know he is no physical match for the agent, Booth allows it.

"Now listen to me, son," Max begins gravely, holding his gaze. "You take care of my daughter. If I ever find out you've hurt her, there's a spot on a rooftop waiting for you."

Booth raises an eyebrow. "As far as these kinda talks go I gotta admit you've got the edge." He can't quite keep the humor out of his eyes, he knows, and Max fakes innocence and then a growl.

"You know I'm serious, son."

Booth shakes his head and laughs. "Come on – you know the last thing I'm ever gonna do is hurt her." He sighs. "But you know what? In all seriousness? You're a good father, Max."

Max sobers instantly and steps back. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Booth, coming from you." Booth has nothing to say to that so merely nods, sensing Max has more to say.

The old felon looks away over his shoulder a moment, and Booth knows he is watching his daughter. "I know I have you to thank," he says, eventually. "For Tempe letting me back into her life. I'll never forget that."

Booth nods. "She's better off with her family around her."

Max grips his shoulder again briefly. "Right you are, son." He clears his throat. "Right well, I think it's past my bedtime. I'm an old man now, you know."

Booth chuckles. "Okay."

Max nods with a smile and moves away. "Tell Tempe I said bye, she seems to be busy." Then he turns back and laughs, leaning close with a stage-whisper, "Hey, you know where to find me when you want to ask for her hand."

Booth grins. "I think we both know Bones better than that, don't we, Max?" Because, joke or not, even if Bones would marry him some day - if he was ever that goddamn lucky - he sure as hell knows better than to ask her father's permission. He prefers his balls attached to his body, thank you very much.

Max laughs and shakes his head, heading for the door. Booth finishes his drink in quiet contemplation. His thoughts wander once again to The Letter, and now to his promise to Max, never to hurt Bones. Their conversation may have been mostly jokey, but about that he has very serious intentions indeed.

Hurting Bones is just not an option.

~o~

Daisy Sweets' eyes are bright when she traps Brennan at the corner of the bar. "Dr. Brennan," she squeaks. "I know it's a special night, but I simply cannot wait to talk to you about the Maluku Island project – you have heard it's going ahead, right?"

At her words, Brennan feels the same slight twinge of regret she felt both when she first heard about the project, and when she subsequently turned down the offer to lead it. "Yes," she says carefully.

"You're going?" Daisy asks, with the kind of question that isn't really a question. Brennan realizes the younger woman expects nothing less of someone in her position. The discoveries on the island have already proven exciting beyond an anthropologist's wildest dreams.

She sighs. "I am not."

Daisy's brow crinkles into a startled frown as she looks up at her. "Because of Agent Booth? Because I'm sure he wouldn't want to hold you back."

"Booth is not holding me back," Brennan protests, wishing Daisy would leave her alone. "Did you bring this up because you hope to be included?" she asks, hoping to draw the younger woman away with her favorite topic of conversation – herself.

"I already have been included," Daisy says, proudly. "You wrote my reference."

Brennan blinks. "It was generic. I didn't realize it was for that project."

"Isn't it exciting?" Daisy nearly shrieks, drawing the attention of the others at the table.

Brennan steps between her and Booth so he won't overhear, but catches his eye in the process. He appears to be engaged in conversation with her father, but takes a moment to shoot her a quick smile that she returns. Satisfied that his attention is elsewhere, she addresses her young intern. "How long do you plan to go for?"

Daisy grins. "The whole year."

Brennan frowns. "What about Lance-a-lot…uh… Dr. Sweets?"

Daisy nods. "He was disappointed at first, but he understands that anthropology is my _passion_, Dr. Brennan!" She clutches her hands to her breast like a Jane Austen heroine and sighs. "And Lance is going to visit me lots. It'll be hard to be apart, but we will be okay," she adds, so sure of herself. It makes Brennan feel inexplicably sad.

"Anyway," Daisy says, brightening. "I had hoped you would be going. But I guess they'll find someone else. It won't be the same without you, though, Dr. Brennan." She smiles a sad little smile and steps around Brennan, leaving her standing frozen by the bar, unable to organize her suddenly rushing thoughts.

~o~

Their drive home is mostly silent, each of them lost under the weight of their own thoughts, but the connection between them remains. Her hand rests on his thigh, thumb stroking idly as she watches but doesn't really see the passing lights of the city out her window. Her minds-eye insists upon blocking out the concrete jungle in favor of the real hot-humid-and-leafy one - complete with groundbreaking finds, both literal and anthropological.

His larger hand envelops hers and remains there for the rest of the drive, but his mind is also elsewhere. Lost in a replay of formal, typewritten attempts at military persuasion. The pros vs cons list that he can't help but make in his head is still heavily skewed towards con, in large part due to the woman beside him.

He squeezes her hand as they near her place and she turns to face him, head resting against the seatback. "I want you to stay."

He gives her a smile in return, though his blood chills a bit with the potential double meaning of her words. Lifting her knuckles to his lips, he slows to make the turn into the parking area.

They enter her apartment and he makes sure the door is secure, before allowing her to lead him down the hallway to her room. Together they prepare for bed as if it is the most natural thing. They clean their teeth over the same sink, and as she's brushing through her hair, he palms her hip and moves past her into the bedroom. He undresses to his boxers, folding his clothes over the chair and sliding into bed, the assembly of thoughts resuming... until she enters the room.

He watches uninhibitedly as she moves naked before him, opens a drawer and slips into a silk pajama set. The pale blue camisole and shorts carry an air of simplicity and innocence, perfectly matching her soft smile as she crawls in beside him. He can't help but touch her, welcome her, his hands smoothing across her shoulder and down her side, the transition between skin and silk nearly indiscernible.

Brennan cups Booth's face and kisses him gently, then tucks her head into the space between his chin and shoulder, inhaling - his solid safety and warmth - and exhaling deeply - her worry, indecision and concern. If only it were that easy.

He kisses her hair and focuses on clearing his mind. On breathing. It's so easy to do when she's beside him, each lungful full of her. Inhale. Exhale. In and out. Cleansing. Full.

"I saw you speaking with my father." Her whispered words blanket his expanded chest.

_Exhale_. "Yes."

Her warm palm rests lightly on the skin and muscle above his diaphragm. They feel the rise (inhale) and fall (exhale) together.

_Inhale_. "And?"

_Exhale_. "Your Dad loves you, Bones. He just wanted to make sure I knew that."

_Inhale_. "So it was the anthropological, 'What are your intentions with my daughter,' conversation."

_Exhale_. "Not in those exact words, but yeah. He knows I love you. He has for a long time now."

He rolls and pulls her atop him (inhale), kissing her nose and wrapping his arms around her (exhale). "Now can we please not talk about your dad in bed?"

She pulls back and their eyes connect and hold. In the dim light, they are together on so many levels - and yet they are each holding something back. To the point where their focus blinds them to the fact that the other is dealing with the same thing.

This love that they make, with tender kisses and light caresses - it's more about giving than receiving. It's not urgent, yet still contains hints of desperation they feel no need to hide. Thorough exploration, loving touches, and yet through it all, without speaking a word aloud, without losing an inch of the hard-fought-for balance that defines their relationship, they still feel a heavy weight between them. Both think it's their own worries they are allowing to get in the way. And both decide they need to push them aside and be what the other needs for tonight.

They do their best to make the other feel their love as a palpable thing filling the minute spaces between them and as it expands, with nowhere else to go, it enters them, from one to the other, him filling her, her filling him.

And in that moment he doesn't see how he could possibly be without her. He thinks about how it would be if he _did_ leave, did go to Afghanistan. He feels a whole new level of connection with her, and as she responds to him, he sees she's just as needy as he is. Just as desperate. In this moment, nothing is more important. Nothing.

This is deeper - she can't stop thinking about how much she'd miss him, miss _this_, if she accepted the invitation to the Maluku project and was gone for a year. She thinks of them in separate places, different worlds, and it hurts; a literal, physical ache. She pulls him closer and, no matter how irrational it may be, thinks about never letting go.

And when they lay together, spent, their heavy exhalations mingling, their limbs still entangled, neither makes an attempt to move. They cling to one another, to this relationship, to _them_. If they could only know the true depth of this, how closely their thoughts are mirrored. How to make it all work out...

Instead, they hold to the memory of the past week and how everything seemed so much easier, so much more manageable when _they_ were still a secret.

~o~

On Saturday morning, Booth finds himself a Jeffersonian widower. He drives home to wash and change and do the laundry he'd left waiting, but as soon as he's through with those tasks he is at a loss. He sits on his couch without his partner, and tries to distract himself from thinking about The Letter. He watches SportsCenter until the same news rolls around on repeat. He walks through each room making a mental list of what he can and can't stand to throw out when he moves in with Bones, but even that prospect can't cheer him. He vacuums Parker's room clean of stray cheerios, is inspired to eat two bowls of cereal and immediately does two hundred crunches to make up for it.

When he finally finds he can put it off no longer he pulls The Letter from between the copies of her books he loves so much and puts it on the table. He eyes the plain white envelope sitting there and thinks about the best way to tell her about it without freaking her out. Once he thinks he finally has a plan he grabs his keys, weapon and jacket and heads out the door.

The lab is quiet again, not even the most dedicated of squints works on a Saturday; no-one besides _his_ squint. He thinks she hasn't noticed him arrive until she speaks without looking up from the bones before her.

"I thought I wouldn't see you until this evening."

He moves close and props himself against the edge of the examination table. "Guess I missed you." He doesn't smile.

Brennan frowns, nudging him away from the table with her hip. She snaps off her gloves. "You want to have some coffee upstairs? I was just going to take a break."

"A break?" He smirks. "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?" At her utterly puzzled expression he sighs. "Coffee would be great."

The lab below is quiet but light. The sun streaming in through the high windows of the atrium catches not a speck of dust in the sterile air. Booth leans on the cool metal of the railing as Bones makes the coffee at the counter behind him.

"Here," she says at last, and he turns to find she is already sitting at the comfy couch that rings the small area, waiting for him.

"Are you okay?" she asks, once he has settled beside her and taken his first sip.

"Yeah."

"You seem pre-occupied."

His hand catches at the back of his neck and he sighs, digging into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. "I have something to show you," he admits, laying the letter on the table in front of her.

She eyes it cautiously. "What is it?"

"Open it, Bones." He puts a hand on her wrist as she reaches for it. "But before you do, you should know I already said no."

Now her frown really deepens, and she snatches the letter up, opening it and reading it quickly. "They want you to go to Afghanistan? To train new recruits?"

It is physically impossible, but as she reads the words before her over-and-over, Brennan feels like her heart has dropped somewhere near her knees.

Booth's fingers wrap around her wrist and he tugs the letter from her grasp with his other hand. "I said no," he repeats.

"Why?" she asks, looking up and into his eyes.

He pulls a face. "What do you mean, why? You want me to _go_?"

She shakes her head quickly. "Absolutely not. Quite apart from the fact that I have no desire to be apart from you, returning to the Army – to train soldiers to kill as you have, no less-"

"Jeez, Bones-"

"-is a terrible idea."

He smirks. "Terrible?"

She nods sincerely. She's quite sure he wouldn't seriously consider it. She knows only too well the cost of his military career to him. Unless… "Do you feel it is your duty to return?"

Booth sighs and pushes back on the couch, slipping the letter back into the white envelope she pulled it from and tossing it on the table. "I think I paid my dues," he murmurs.

She reaches out and covers one of his hands with her own. "So do I."

He smiles, and leans in to press a kiss to her hair, before reaching for his coffee and taking a sip. "So there you go. I should have told you last night, it's kinda been bothering me, but I needed time to think."

Brennan thinks about the Maluku Islands, and she understands. "Did any part of you want to go?" she asks, quietly.

Booth meets her eyes steadily, his as warm and reassuring as ever. "No. I've got too much to lose. You know?"

She nods, feeling a rising panic that he's going to hate her when she tells him what she's decided. That he's going to be hurt because it will seem like she is making the exact opposite choice he just has. But she isn't, not really… she hopes he'll see that, hopes he'll let her talk long enough to understand.

"Hey, what's up?" he asks, shifting closer so their thighs press warmly side-by-side, and brushing his thumb against her cheek, his palm against her face.

She has no idea where to start, so she chooses the beginning. "I have also been handed an… opportunity."

He says nothing, but she watches his features slacken a very small amount. She has no idea when she got so good at reading his face that she notices this tell-tale sign of the dread she's sure he's suddenly feeling. She decides to employ his tactic. "Before I go any further, I am not leaving you," she tells him and he sits back, nodding his head reflexively but still looking terrified.

"So what is it?"

She proceeds to tell him – probably in more detail than is strictly necessary, if the look on his face throughout is anything to go by – all about the Maluku Islands project, about the incredible nature of the find and what it means for her field.

He listens quietly until she is done, then scrubs a hand over his mouth. "They want you to head it up, huh?"

She nods. "It's a great honor. But more than that – I _want_ to be in on this, Booth. It's – it's incredible!"

"How long?"

"They want me for a year."

He sucks in his cheeks in shock. "A year? Bones, don't ask me to be apart from you for a year, there's no freaking way."

She wonders briefly if it is wrong to be thrilled by the dark look on his face and the conviction in his tone, then she smiles tentatively. "I've told them three months, and-"

He nods, but he still looks a little like he wants to cry. "Okay, three months. We – we can do three months, right? It's not long at all. There'll be email and phone calls, right? You'll have a phone?"

"The project is very well funded. I expect the technology available will be exemplary, but Booth-"

"Nah it's – it's okay, Bones. I'll cope." He takes her hands in his and she has more to say but she's captivated by the look on his face. "You know, your passion for your work. It's one of the first things I ever loved about you."

He can't possibly know what it means to hear him say that, and Brennan is lost for words for a long moment, her eyes pricking with tears. "Thank you, Booth. It means a huge amount to me that you would be okay with me going."

"_Would_ be okay?"

He doesn't miss a trick. She smiles. "It is not my intention to go alone."

"You taking a squintern?"

"Actually yes, Daisy also has a place on the project, but-"

"Daisy? Oh man, she is going to drive you _nuts_, you'll wring her neck within a week."

Brennan pokes him in the chest. "Booth!"

"Ow, what was that for?"

"You're not listening."

"I'm listening just fine."

"I mean – I have more to say and you're… I planned how I was going to ask and now it's all gone awry."

He chuckles. "Awry?"

Insufferable man. She takes a deep breath and lets the words tumble out in a rush. "I want you to come with me."

Booth stares. "To Ma-ka-poo-poo?"

She rolls her eyes. "Maluku."

"Me? Come on one of your digs?"

She shrugs. "Why not?"

"What would I do?"

"Nothing – everything. Be there with me."

He smiles, wide and beautiful, and tugs her against him. "Yes."

She grins and pulls back to kiss him hard. "You will? And you're sure? Will Hacker allow it?"

He wants to kiss her again, for surprising him, for needing him… for not calling Hacker 'Andrew'. Instead he shrugs. "I'll take a leave of absence. I think we're owed a little slack, and it's not like my partner will be around anyway."

She laughs, delighted. "You'll be bored."

He leers at her and grins. "No I won't."

She chuckles. "They do need someone to set up the security at the site – I suggested you might be the right man for the job."

"Oh, okay, now I see. You just want me for my badge." He sits back, patting the thing fondly. "Nothing to do with missing me at all, is it?"

She glares playfully at him and stands to clear away the coffees they barely touched. "It's everything to do with missing you," she tells him seriously when he joins her at the counter. "I told you, I have no desire to be apart from you, but I can't miss out on this."

"I know," he tells her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his forehead to hers. "I wouldn't want you to. But I am very, very happy you want me there with you."

She's not sure she knows the words she needs to articulate just how right he is, just how much she does want him there, so she settles for showing him instead, wrapping her arms around him and not letting go for a very long time.

~o~

_Two months later…_

Cool water laps at Brennan's ankles as she watches the sun sink behind dark clouds drifting at the horizon. The heat and over-bearing humidity of the day is replaced, here at the ocean's edge, with a whisper of a breeze and she tips her head back, stretching muscles aching from repetitive strain and smelling the wood smoke from the fire at the camp. Her stomach rumbles, reminding her that she has worked non-stop since Daisy brought her a light lunch before noon.

Thinking of work reminds her that she wanted to finish cataloging the new remains they excavated that morning and she begins a mental check-list to just that end as she turns back toward the camp, but runs immediately into a warm, solid body.

Booth smiles, his teeth white in the dying light and against tanned skin. "Stop working," he chides, pressing a finger to her forehead.

She smiles tiredly. "There's so much to do."

He nods. "And _so_ lots of time. Come on, Tri said to tell you dinner is ready."

"I am hungry," she concedes, looping an arm through his as she replaces her sandals and allows him to tug her up the rough little beach and back to the track that leads to their camp.

"Yeah," he agrees, "ancient hominids can wait 'til tomorrow. Right now it's hamburgers all the way."

She raises an eyebrow. "You got your burgers?"

"Tri picked them up in Jakarta." He rubs his hands together in delight.

She shakes her head. "Philistine American, that's what he'll be calling you."

"Don't care, totally worth it."

"Booth," she murmurs, pulling on his arm until he stops and turns to face her.

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking, before, at the beach."

He nods, smoothing a hand down her arm.

"We've been here a month today."

He does the mental calculation and grins. "Hey, you're right – we should celebrate." He waggles his eyebrows and she rolls her eyes.

"All that about day-by-day, week-by-week," she tells him. "It makes little sense when we've been sharing a tent for a month – when we plan to live together when we return to D.C."

Booth wraps his arms around her and pulls her into a hug, his voice close to her ear. "Hey, Bones, you don't need to put a label on it – let's just _be_, yeah? We seem to be managing okay so far."

She pulls away and presses a hand to his cheek, his island-cultivated stubble rough against her palm. "Yes, we do."

She leans in and kisses him, losing herself in the moment. She likes his no-labels plan.

Forever is a much less scary word, when you don't say it out loud.

_FIN._

* * *

_A/N: Well, folks - that's it! We'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and every person who stuck with this story, especially those who reviewed and kept us going._

_For the entire 106 days we've been writing this, it's been nothing but fun - and since that's the only thing TT and I truly set out to accomplish, we feel this partnership is a success. We hope you'll follow us and stay tuned for our future endeavors!_


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